Discipline Malfunction
by GLCW2
Summary: The morning after 'Sexual Healing' and the folks get involved... Written by greywolf and posted here with permission. Rated for language, violence, and mature, non-explicit situations. Check first chapter's A/N and profile for more information.
1. Part 1

First of all, I own neither Roswell nor it's characters. They belong to Melinda Metz, Laura J. Burns, and Jason Katmis.

Secondly, this story is not mine. It was originally written by the fantastic author, Greywolf, and was posted on another site. I am posting this with both the author's full knowledge and permission. I have only made very minor spelling and grammatical corrections in this story and edited a few continuity errors. I left the vast majority of ellipses in the story. I would highly recommend checking out my profile for the link to his postings as they are filled with multitudes of links and pictures that add much to all his stories. This is just the first of his stories that I plan on posting here.

That being said, hope you enjoy this story as much as I do.

A/N: I'm going to try to update this every week with at least 10 chapters. There's a total of 185 chapters to post so it may take some time. Thanks for reading and don't forget to give greywolf some reviews. The link is in my profile.

* * *

**Sheriff's Office, Small Conference Room, Roswell, New Mexico**

The four parents were waiting anxiously for the weekly update briefing from Sheriff Valenti and his staff. All four were grim-faced, Jeff Parker shaking his head.

"Even today,... four weeks later,... I just don't understand what went wrong?"

"I don't know what went wrong either, Jeff," said Diane Evans. "But looking back, I know exactly when it started to go wrong."

The other three looked at her, their expressions urging her to continue.

"The whole purpose... the whole plan that morning, was to separate them, because we all believed they were getting too close, too quickly, and that neither was really experienced enough socially to make a meaningful commitment to each other..."

"Yes, Diane...?" Said Nancy Parker.

"Well, when they came in the door after being out all night... you remember we wanted to be there as a group to intimidate them... to make them understand we were united in our efforts to get them to break it off before they went too far..."

"That was the plan... and I still think it was a good plan, Diane," said Jeff Parker.

"I thought so too until I saw... they came in the door together and started to separate... but when they saw us sitting there looking at them... they moved back together and their hands enfolded... I think somehow _WE_ drove them together."

* * *

**Four weeks previously**

BRINNGGG!

BRINNGGG!

You didn't have to be a lawyer to realize that a telephone ringing at 5AM was not generally going to be good news.

"Hello?" said Philip Evans sleepily.

_"Philip? Jeff Parker here. I was waiting up for Liz to get back in... she went for a drive with Max. I fell asleep around 1AM and just woke up. I checked her room... there's no sign of her. Is Max home? If he is, can I talk to him?" _

"Let me check, Jeff. It'll just be a minute."

"What is it, Philip?"

"It's Jeff Parker, dear. Liz went out with Max and she hasn't come home... He wants to know if Max is here."

Philip Evans checked Max's room, hesitating at the door briefly, afraid of what he might find in the bedroom. But when he looked, the bedroom was empty. He wasn't sure if he was relieved to find Liz not there with his son or not. That still left the issues of where they were, whether or not they were alright, and what they were doing out together at 5AM. He hurried back to the master bedroom.

"Max isn't here either."

"Where could the two of them be?"

"An excellent question, dear. What the hell they are doing out at 5AM would be another one."

Philip picked up the phone.

"Jeff, Max isn't here either. I'm going to check with the Sheriff's office, make sure there hasn't been an accident or something. But if there hasn't been... well, Diane and I have been worried about how fast Max and Liz's relationship seems to be progressing... I think maybe the four of us ought to meet to decide what we are going to do about it."

_"We'll treat you and Diane to breakfast at the Crashdown in 30 minutes, Philip. Let's talk this over and come up with a plan... a common front, sort of. I like Max... think he's a good kid, but he and Liz are getting entirely out of hand." _

"I agree completely, Jeff. Diane and I will be there in a half-hour."


	2. Part 2

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

**0530 - The Crashdown**

Jeff Parker saw the car pull up in front of the closed restaurant and recognized the couple that stepped out. He didn't know the Evans' well, but Roswell was a small town. He and Philip were both in Rotary, and of course they'd seen the two at school open houses and similar functions over the years. Maybe they should have gotten together when Liz and Max had started dating... gotten better acquainted, but somehow it just seemed like their relationship had snowballed so quickly, a first tentative date only two months ago and now... staying out all night? What got in to kids these days? Why on earth did they think their parents were going to put up with them doing such a thing? _Raging hormones, I guess,'_ he answered himself. He turned the key in the door and opened it, offering his hand to Diane Evans as she entered.

"Hello... Diane, isn't it? I'm Jeff Parker,... Liz's father. Nancy will be here in just a minute."

"Good morning, Jeff. I'm... sorry about the circumstances of this meeting. Philip and I want you to know that we are as concerned by this is you are."

"Hello, Jeff. I called the Sheriff's Office, they have no reports of accidents or trouble. Oh, and I checked with our daughter, Isabel. She was aware Max and Liz were going out... couldn't really say where they were going or what they were planning on doing, but she doesn't know where they are either."

Nancy Parker came from the back, carrying a tray with four plates to the table that was already set for breakfast. She wiped her hands on her apron and then offered her hand to Philip Evans.

"Hi, I'm Nancy,... Liz's mom. It's Philip, isn't it?"

"Yes... and this is my wife Diane. We are so sorry about this, Nancy."

"Diane and I already met... when we got called in to the principal's office when Max and Liz were given detention for making too much noise making out at school. Well Diane, we have to quit meeting like this."

"The important thing is that we get this back under control," said Jeff Parker. "It's not that we have anything against Max, he seems like a real nice boy,... but he seems to have kind of swept Liz off her feet. Maybe he's just too experienced for her, she really hasn't dated much."

As he finished the sentence it was obvious that Diane and Philip were looking at each other in disbelief.

"What is it? What's wrong?" asked Jeff suddenly.

Philip Evans looked at Jeff and Nancy and said, "Well it's just... well Max isn't experienced... at all. Liz is the first girl he's ever dated."

The conversation continued over hashbrowns, scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast.

"Even counting going to that Junior High School square dance with Alex, I don't think Liz has dated more than four boys. Kyle Valenti was the first one she ever went out with more than once, and even then she complained that all he ever thought about was football and... well she said, trying to get to second base once," said Nancy. "She was never even remotely serious with any of them. Then comes Max and... well, it was like she was spending every minute she could with him. Even after we got called in to the principal's office because they were making out in the eraser room, I caught her sneaking back in one night, up her fire escape after seeing him. We had my very best mother-daughter talk, and she was... well... so evasive. And now this..."

"I just don't understand it. Liz has always been the most reliable and honest kid you ever saw. It's just not like her to sneak around... to lie to us. Let alone, to get detention at school for making a public scene. This just is so unlike her," said Jeff.

"Well it's obviously not just her fault, Jeff," said Diane. "It takes two to tango, as they say."

"Yeah, but only one of the two gets pregnant."

"Nancy, you can't be serious. You really can't believe... they've only been going together about eight weeks," said Jeff.

"Jeff, the last movie was over at 1AM... the bowling alley closed at 11:30. The only entertainment teenagers have at this hour is... well, each other. If it hasn't happened yet, it's going to... unless we do something."

"It just seems so... bizarre. I mean... if neither Liz nor Max has ever been like this. If they've been... well,... shy, well what made them change?" said Diane.

"Liz has just been... different... since September... I wonder if it's some sort of post-traumatic stress reaction to what happened in September... to that shooting here?" asked Jeff.

Diane looked somewhat nervous. "Sheriff Valenti told me that Max was there too. I wonder if somehow, even though nobody got hurt, if maybe somehow both of them were kind of scared... kind of had their own mortality shown to them, maybe deciding to live for the day, rather than worry about the future. Max... well,... Max has changed since then too. He was really brooding after that... moreso than usual... at least until he and Liz started dating two months ago. Since then, he seems to live and breathe Liz Parker. I honestly couldn't believe it when the principal called the other day. Honestly, Max has just never even dated. He's gone from being too shy to ask a girl out to being totally obsessed in just eight weeks. I really can't predict what he'll do anymore."

"Well that's what we need to decide this morning, before they get here," said Philip Evans with Jeff Parker nodding in agreement. "How we ensure that we can control the situation. How we can keep them apart until they cool off... get some perspective."

"I feel the same way, Philip" said Jeff Parker. "We all try to teach our kids values and, up until the last few weeks, I'd thought we'd done a pretty good job with Liz. But I'm realistic... you know, if the kids had been dating steady for a year or two... I could maybe understand them getting a little carried away. If they had been dating since Junior High and were doing this... well, Nancy and I would probably have a long heart to heart with Liz and if she was adamant... well, we'd put her on the pill, I guess. But to do this... to stay out all night with a boy after only dating him a few weeks... to sneak out... lie to us... this isn't normal... this isn't our Liz. We need to protect our daughter, protect her from herself. If we can't make her listen to reason, we may need to send her to a girl's boarding school where she won't have the opportunity to get in trouble."

"Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that, Jeff. But if it does... well Diane and I will pay half of the costs, like she says, it takes two to tango. But before we take that step, we need to decide on a strategy about what to do when they do show up. We need to lay down the law to them. And as long as we are here waiting, let's decide what steps we think we ought to take, first if the kids listen to reason... then if they don't. Is that agreeable to everyone?"

The heads around the table were all slowly nodding in agreement.

"So, OK... what is the minimum punishment and restriction we'll give them, assuming they are contrite and totally agree with our actions?"


	3. Part 3

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

"Well," said Nancy, "I think first of all we need to cool them off... to stop this from going any further in the near future. I mean... the sneaking out... the staying out all night... even the making out... that's got to stop. We need to separate them... at least for awhile."

"And more than that," said Philip, "... we can't let them get away with tonight, especially after what happened at school, and the promises they made after that. They need to understand that there are real consequences for breaking the rules. It can't be just talking to them this time. They need to be grounded... punished. They need to understand that if they can't discipline themselves... well, their parents will do it for them."

"And I don't think either one... especially not Max, really has dated enough to know their own minds well enough to be making any kind of a lifetime decision... certainly not at their age. He may think that Liz is the one and only... simply because she has been the only one he's ever even kissed," said Diane. "It's not fair to him or to her to let them feel that their first real puppy love is forever... that just doesn't happen. I think that they both need to date other people for awhile... once they are no longer grounded. Maybe what they have really is special... maybe when they look around enough that they know their own minds... maybe in a year or so, it'll turn out that they really are right for each other. Liz is a lovely girl, ... it'd be really nice if some day... but they are both way too young... way too inexperienced to have a serious relationship right now. They both need to mature more."

"So I guess what I'm hearing," said Jeff, "Is that initially they are going to be punished for breaking the rules and for lying to us, but then they are still not going to be permitted to date... at least not each other, for some period of time. After that, if they still are interested in each other, ... then we can let them get back together... more closely supervised, with a lot stricter rules. Basically, the two of them will have to start earning back our trust by doing the right thing once we're done with the punishment phase. Does that sound right to everyone?"

"Even before that, Jeff," said Philip. "It makes a big difference how they accept their punishment. I think if they are remorseful, acknowledge that they fouled up, accept our judgment and comply with it, well... they'll be showing enough maturity that maybe we can hurry the process along a little bit... even back off from the punishment, once they've obviously learned their lesson."

"I agree, Phil. I don't want our daughter mad at us forever... or moping around the house all depressed. It might be easier to give them a substantial punishment, then back off some of that once we are sure they understand how badly they have screwed up. It's really not about the punishment. It's about correcting the behavior... correcting the behavior and preventing something tragic from happening... something that will mean they both get hurt. Like I said, Nancy and I like Max. And it's not his fault any more than it's Lizzy's fault. They've both just let this spiral out of control, and so unfortunately the adults are left with the messy job of reining it in, and dealing with all the teenage angst that's going to cause."

All the heads seemed to be nodding slowly in agreement. Diane looked at the other faces at the table. Nobody was looking forward to this, but there seemed to be unanimity that it had to be done. She had to admit to herself that she'd really liked seeing her son come out of his shell... that the young Parker girl had brought a spark of life to Max that he'd never had before. And in a way, Diane would always be grateful to her for doing that... even if Max wound up with someone else. Liz would always have a special place in Diane's heart. But this was much too soon, and much too much, and they needed to put the brakes on now, and put them on hard.

"Well," said Diane, "How long do they get grounded? A couple of months?"

"I think we need at least that to get Liz's attention." said Nancy. "I picked her up at school when the principal called, and she was basically in denial that she'd done anything wrong. I had 'the talk' with her about sex... she told me it embarrassed her and really wouldn't even listen. Now after two warnings... it's almost 6 AM and she isn't home? Her curfew was at 1 AM... and we might have extended that, if she'd given us a call... but she didn't even call. I'm thinking three months, here."

"Well Max is every bit as responsible for this as Liz. If it's three months for her, it needs to be three months for him. Or actually, six months at first... then if they show some remorse... handle it maturely, we can talk about backing that off to three months maybe. What does everyone think about that?" Philip asked.

"That sounds quite reasonable, actually. Maybe if they don't make a fuss, just acknowledge that they've been screwing up right from the start, we wouldn't even have to go quite that far... but what if they don't? What if they don't accept that... try to fight us on it."

"Well, Jeff, then I don't think we have any choice but to go for the whole punishment... and if they cheat on that... they've got to understand... if they cheat on that even once, it'll get worse."

"What would be worse?" asked Nancy.

"Well we certainly can't let them scoff at their punishments... either refuse to accept them or, worse, to lie and go behind our backs about them. If that were to happen, maybe it would be necessary to physically separate them. I mean, we could send Max to a boarding school, it wouldn't have to be Liz."

"No Phil, if that becomes necessary, I already have an application package for a school in Vermont... it really is very good academically, it's for girls with... troubles. Drugs, alcohol, ... inappropriate relationships... it's very strict, but it may be just the thing. Maybe only for a semester or two, just enough to break this up."

"And one other thing," said Nancy. "Everyone has an understandable reluctance to publicly criticize the other couple's kid, but... well, we are all in this together. Liz has heard from her father and me that what she has been doing is unacceptable. We ARE her parents but sometimes... well, it's the old 'familiarity breeds contempt,' sort of thing. I think it's important for the two of you to also let her know that it's not just her parents who consider her actions unacceptable. Maybe it will get through to her better if it's someone more disinterested... not just her parents talking to her."

"That's an excellent idea, Nancy," said Philip. "And that goes the same for Max. If I were the two of you, I'd flat out tell Max that you want your daughter to have nothing to do with Max ever, unless he can show he has appropriate respect for Liz and for the values you have taught her. His mother and I have always taught him to be respectful of young ladies... not that he's ever gone out with one before Liz. But it needs to be brought home to him that truly caring about someone entails a respect for them that does not include even putting their reputation at risk, let alone being... licentious."

"So then everybody agrees about that...?" asked Jeff. "When it comes to laying it on the line... it doesn't matter if it is your kid or the other couple's kid, ... you don't hold back. Nobody will have their feelings hurt because someone is tough on their kid... we're just trying to keep them out of trouble and we need to do whatever it takes to get their attention? Agreed?"

"Agreed."

"Agreed."

"Agreed."


	4. Part 4

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

"Is there anything else we haven't thought of?" asked Philip.

"Yeah. Cellphones. I'd really like it a whole lot better if we didn't have the two of them having the ability to make plans behind our backs," said Jeff Parker. "I realize half the kids at school have them, and they can probably borrow from their friends, but it's just a little too easy now for Liz to go up in her bedroom, call Max in his bedroom, and make plans together, without us even having a chance to intervene. I'd rather the calls had to come in over the regular phone, where caller ID records will tell us if they've been violating their restriction on contacting each other. I think... at least for the first three or four weeks, we ought to just confiscate their phones."

"That sounds fair, Jeff. And while we are at it, I'm pulling the Jeep keys from Max. He's going to be restricted to school and home for awhile anyway, and he can ride to school and back with Isabel. He needs to learn that if you can't be trusted to follow the rules, you aren't going to be trusted to do any adult things... and that includes driving a vehicle on the public streets. If he behaves himself for three or four weeks, he can earn his driving privileges back, but he needs to know that they are just that... privileges, not a right, and those privileges are conditional on responsible behavior."

"Well, maybe that's what it will take," said Diane. "Clearly, the talk we had with him after I got called to the principal's office didn't have any effect on him. In less than a week, he's staying out all night with Liz."

"Which brings up another topic, Jeff," said Nancy Parker. "What EXACTLY did they do tonight. Do we maybe need to consider a medical visit for some morning-after protection? I hate to think about that... but I'd hate to not think about it and wind up having to make even more difficult decisions in eight or ten weeks."

"I honestly don't see any choice but to at least ask Liz, Nancy. Even if nothing like that happened... that certainly is the kind of thing that can and does happen when children act like this. It might cause her to think a little bit more before doing something like this... even if nothing happened this time."

"I agree, Jeff." said Philip. "I know it is seldom enforced unless one of the two parties is an adult, but the age of consent in New Mexico is seventeen. Technically, BOTH could be prosecuted under the law if they had sex. They need to know that. It's not just the four parents that disapprove... it's the law of the state. But certainly if they DID do something... well, the sooner we decide how to handle it, the more options we have. Clearly, this would primarily involve the two of you since Max certainly isn't going to get pregnant, and I don't know what your opinions are about the morning-after pill, abortion, or anything else. But with as little judgment as they've shown lately, it's very possible they did have sex, and if they have shown that little judgment as well... well it certainly shouldn't surprise us if they've failed to use any sort of protection."

"Oh God, Philip," said Diane, "I hope you are wrong. I would hope that Max is more responsible... and I'd dread having Liz have to make those sorts of choices if she did get pregnant."

"Well it wouldn't be Liz making the choices," said Jeff. "If she's managed to foul up her life THAT bad, she really doesn't get a vote. Her mother and I would have to decide if she takes the morning-after pill or what. The important thing is... she has to tell us one way or another, and if she won't... well, then we probably do need to take her in to the clinic... have her talk to the doctor, maybe even be examined if necessary, and find out what's really going on."

"Let's just hope it hasn't gone that far."

"Nancy, I have nothing against hope...but she's our only child. We need to be sure. If there is any doubt... well I think we need to take her in."

"Jeff... whatever the monetary costs of this... it's also Max's responsibility. Just let us know and we'll cover it, then think of some way for Max to repay whatever it has cost. He needs to take responsibility if he has done something wrong... and we'll see that he does."

"That seems more than fair, Phil..."

At that point Diane saw the black jeep turn the corner and come toward the Crashdown. "Well thank God they are alive at least, and not dead in a ditch somewhere."

"Amen to that, Diane," said Jeff Parker. "But now comes the hard part."

"Amen to that too," said Nancy Parker.

* * *

**O6:25, the street in front of the Crashdown**

"Any flashes?"

"No. And you?"

"Don't think so."

"Max... everything that we did, everything we felt... was it... was it all just about this... this thing? You know, we don't even know what it is."

"Yet."

"Max, was it ever just about us? You and me? Because a person could feel like they just served their purpose. You know, like being used."

"Is that what you think? Because you're not the only one who could worry about being used. I mean, some girls would give a lot to see themselves fly through outer space. You know, I'm sure it doesn't compare to other things you could be doing, like watching Kyle barf after a beer blast."

"I can't believe you just said that."

"Why not?"

"Because it really happened. "

"You're kidding me. "

"No. I swear. Last summer. It was a really hot night..."

"You know what? No, no... don't tell me. "

"Ok, so what you're saying is that you saved me from a life of watching Kyle barf."

"Liz Parker... I don't think that was ever going to be your destiny."

"No?"

"No."

"Ok, fine. If you know so much, then tell me, Max... what's my destiny?"

"I only know the part I'm hoping for."

"Well, you think we can sneak back in without getting caught?"

"I hope so. We've both been in enough trouble with our parents lately. We probably need to try to give them a little more time to adjust to the two of us being a couple."

"So we are really going to be a couple... for real? Not just trying to mine information about your planet from our collective psyches?"

He smiled and looked down at her. "Well, that WAS the part I was hoping for."

She was smiling up at him as they entered the door together, holding hands, before dropping his hand to move away from him... but then her eyes saw his eyes widen as he looked at the table in front of them. Her vision quickly followed his... to the four parents staring at them in disapproval.

Instinctively her hand found his. Both drew courage from the touch as they narrowed the distance between them until their shoulders touched.

Diane Evans was doing her best to look stern as the two teenagers entered. Max looked up first, and his eyes went wide with sudden concern. Liz did the same, perhaps a second later. She had seen them kiss goodbye out in the jeep, and they had obviously been parting. But as she saw them grasp each others hand and close back together, Diane was disconcerted. Somewhere deep in her brain, it seemed like an alarm was going off.

But she didn't have time to pay attention, she decided. It would take her full attention... the full attention of all of the parents, to insure that these two misbehaving children were brought back under control.


	5. Part 5

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

"You might as well sit down. We are going to be talking a while," said Jeff Parker.

It had seemed like a good idea to seat them next to each other, so they would be surrounded by a semi-circle of parents, for added intimidation. But as she saw them seem to huddle a little closer together before the hostile stares, Diane was no longer sure that the seating arrangement was THAT good an idea. But what was done was done. It was time to talk to them.

"Well Max," his mother asked. "Would you care to explain just exactly what the two of you were doing staying out all night?"

Isabel had wanted for years to tell their parents the truth about where they came from. Max had never thought that was a good idea. But even if he had... here... before parents that were hostile... not to mention Liz's parents... well NOW certainly wasn't the time to do that. And that left no real alternative but to lie... like he'd been doing for a decade now.

"Mom... Dad..., we just went out for a drive... stopped to look at the stars... kicked back to point out various constellations... and... well, we fell asleep. That's all."

"Max. It's late February. It damn near froze last night. Just how did you two fall asleep in a cold jeep and not wake up until morning?" asked Philip Evans.

Max seemed to be struggling for the right words. Liz tried to take him off the hook. It was successful only in allowing her to share the grief.

"We had a blanket. We just spread it out on the desert floor and laid there, looking up at the stars. It really wasn't all that cold. We just sort of fell asleep... that was all. We're sorry if it worried you."

"So you believe it's OK to go spend the night on a blanket with your boyfriend... that's what you believe is appropriate conduct, Liz? Less than a week after I have to come bail you out from the principal's office... less than a week after I caught you sneaking in the window of your room? I asked you then, Liz... I asked you if you were having sex with Max..."

"Mother... I already told you no..." Liz said, blushing with embarrassment and looking back and forth between Max and his parents.

"You told me that you wouldn't sneak out... wouldn't stay out past curfew. You told me a lot of things, Liz. But what you haven't told me is why I should trust you when you obviously don't keep your word."  
"Liz is telling the truth. We didn't do anything... we just fell asleep."

"Well son, that'd be a whole lot easier to believe if you hadn't gotten detention for inappropriate contact with this young lady yourself. We are supposed to believe that you were unable to control yourselves in school surrounded by dozens of teachers and hundreds of classmates, but you went and spread out a blanket, laid down on it next to each other and... what... got BORED and fell asleep when there was only the two of you there? What kind of fools do you think we are, Max."

"Look Dad... nothing happened. I mean... sure, we kissed a little, but NOTHING happened."

"Max, curling up on a blanket next to my daughter and spending the night with her may be nothing to you... but it's PLENTY to me. I can almost understand you not having respect for Liz, since she has been behaving with a complete absence of standards, but I explained to you when the two of you started dating what the rules were... the curfew... the standards expected. I don't recall once saying it was alright to share the sheets with my daughter."

"But we didn't..."

"Listen you two. It's time you understood that you don't make the rules around here. Max, it's your parents and Nancy and myself that make the rules... and because you've broken them, there are going to be some big changes in what you and Liz are going to be doing in the future. And you need to understand, son,... it's because of YOU. She never acted this way before... not once. I can't help it if you've never dated... if you have no self-control. But you aren't going to be learning those skills on my daughter... or anything else."

Liz was starting to do a slow burn.

She really had been 'the perfect Liz Parker' for most of her life. She had done everything they'd asked of her... and more. She had worked hard at school and at the Crashdown, and excelled at both. She had the best GPA in her class in Junior High and had the best GPA in her High School class,... was odds on favorite to be valedictorian.

And it wasn't that she didn't realize that trying to keep Max's secret... and to help him learn about his home world had caused her to do things that upset them. But she sort of figured that all the years of doing everything right would give her enough credibility that they would talk to her... not dictate to her. But they were her parents, and she would have put up with it even still... if they'd just treated her like that.

But there was her father, standing in the same spot she'd been standing almost five months ago... the spot where the bullet had entered her abdomen, the force of that slug knocking her back another three or four feet. She looked at the ceiling above her father, remembering that day.

The bullet... the impact had hurt, but only for a second... then she was on her back... nauseated... weak... she knew what had happened, and as she looked up at the ceiling... she knew that she was going to die... even before the ambulance could ever get there. It was like the room had gotten darker... her vision contracting to just the narrow area of ceiling above her. She was going into shock so quickly... the blood loss was too much... Maria couldn't stop it... not the internal bleeding. The perfect Miss Liz Parker, age sixteen years... was not going to see her next birthday.

She remembered... more than anything else... the regret. All the things she had never done, all the things she thought she'd have time to do... now all over. And she remembered thinking of Max. He'd been her lab partner for three years and though she had always hoped he might be interested... why had she never taken the initiative herself? Why had she never told him that she liked him? Sure, maybe he was shy... but why had she been so damn shy... so reluctant to tell him how she really felt.  
And then... all at once... Max was there. Even through her shock, that had made her regret even worse, somehow. When she'd seen the pain in his big brown eyes... he had cared... after all.

She had been so glad he was there... so she wouldn't be alone in her last moments of life... so she would know, wherever she was going, that it wasn't just her that had regrets about things that they should have done, the things they could have shared. And then the words... 'Liz, LIZ! You have to look at me. You have to look at me.' And with those words...well, it wasn't just that her life had been saved but more... she had really started to live.

'_And now...,_' Liz thought, the slow burn threatening to catch fire, _'...NOW Dad is standing there... on the same spot where I almost died... and he is saying terrible things about the person who saved me... the person that I love_.'

"Dad... Mom..., don't treat Max like that..."


	6. Part 6

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

"And how else should we treat him, Liz? Since the two of you started to go together, there has been nothing but trouble. You lie... you sneak out..., neither one of you can be trusted. And so you know what, Liz? We are going to do just what you do with little kids who can't cope with temptation... we are going to keep the temptation away from them.

You are not to see Max for the next three months, do you understand? You will not go out with him, you will not talk to him on the phone, you will not speak to him privately or in public, except if it comes up in one of your school classes. You are being grounded, for the next three months. Your life will be school, work, and home.

And even after that, I'm not sure you two will be allowed to go out together. For that to happen,... well... you'll have to earn back our trust... and as for Max... he'll have to earn it back as well," said Jeff Parker.

"Right now, Max is not welcome in our house and he's not welcome in the Crashdown. See the sign that says, 'we reserve the right to refuse service to anybody'? Well Max..., you are that anybody."

Nancy Parker nodded in agreement. "I'm sorry, dear, but until you... until the both of you, learn a little self control, well we can just no longer trust you together."

Liz looked at all four parents with tears in her eyes. Then she looked at her mother. "We had this conversation just a couple of days ago, Mom. Over sixteen years I did things your way, never gave you any trouble at all. But what if this time, just this once in 6000 days, I think differently than you? And what if... I'm right, and you are wrong?

What if how I feel about Max is right, and how you feel about him is... simply incorrect? What if I understand the kind of person he is... the character he has,... and you are mistaken? Why should I give up Max... just because you and Dad are wrong about him?"

Max looked at Liz, feeling intensely guilty. He had gotten them in to this, he and Isabel and Michael with their damn obsession to find out about their home planet.

He had used Liz, and his actions had led to this situation. Did he love Liz? Sure, he'd loved her since the third grade. But last night... had that passion even been real? Or just some alien memory aid to find that stupid orb. What was really important to him? Finding his roots? Or Liz Parker?

As he saw two of the people he loved most in the world staring at her with disapproval and two of the people she loved most in the world staring at her with disapproval, the answer came to him. She'd asked him once why he had risked his life, risked exposure that day to save her. He had replied simply, that it was her. The answer today was still the same. Liz was more important to him than his life, more important than where he came from, certainly more important than that stupid orb out in the jeep.

"Liz, you'll do it because we say you will. You've proven you can't handle the freedom we've given you so until you demonstrate you can, we are taking that freedom away."

Max opened his mouth but before he could speak, Philip Evans chimed in.

"That goes for you too, son. You are grounded for the next 3 months. No dating... no outside activities at all. And you are not to even contact Liz. I want your cell phone, and I want you to take the jeep home immediately. I'll expect the keys on my desk when I get home, you won't be driving it for three months. You two are just too much of a bad influence on each other to allow this to continue."

"I am afraid it's necessary, son," said Diane Evans. "You really haven't been normal since this all started..."

The thought hit her then... normal? Max had really never been... normal, not since the very first day they brought him home. Almost eleven years now, and he had never really felt like he belonged... until these last few weeks... until Liz. It was like... he hadn't really been a human being... just some sort of... imitation... like something else... just pretending to be a human being... until he started going with Liz. It sounded like both kids had done what was expected of them their entire lives never really having anything they felt passionate enough to confront their parents over until they had found each other.

She looked at the girl... not just her appearance, but the fire in her eyes... the passion when she spoke about Max. What hold did she have over Max? She looked at Max... looked at her son, looked at the intensity with which he looked at her, looked at the anger he saw in Max's eyes, Max who was never angry, whenever someone criticized Liz.

_'He's... let her in. Whatever has been the problem all these years... the secret he could never share... he's shared that with her.'_

In its own way, that scared Diane Evans even more than teenage hormones running a muck. The latter the parents could understand, they'd pretty well experienced some version of that their own teenage years. But this was more frightening, somehow. Max had shared part of his soul with this girl, a part he could never bring himself to share, even with his own parents.

Somehow Diane knew, knew that the stakes were infinitely higher than any of the parents had believed. The bond between them was already far stronger than they had thought... dangerously strong.

'_Can we break that bond? Or... when we try to break it... will something else break first?_'

"Mr. Parker... Mrs. Parker... Mom and Dad... I'm asking you to reconsider. I'm begging you to reconsider."

Max took Liz's hand in his as he continued, "I know you are upset and you have every right to be upset. Liz and I are new to this... we haven't handled it all that well. But we do care about each other... care deeply. This isn't going to go away... not in three months... not in three years... and..." as he turned to look at her, smile at her, "not in three lifetimes. Your daughter, Mr. and Mrs. Parker isn't some wild out-of-control child, she's kind and loving and intelligent... and the finest person I've ever met. I don't know if I can live without her for three months..."

"I can't live without you either, Max," said Liz, the tears coming down her cheeks as she buried her head in his chest.

Alarm bells were going off in the heads of all four parents, and they should have been. Unfortunately, the bells were being badly misinterpreted. Philip Evans looked at Jeff Parker and saw his own near-panic reflected back. _'Were the kids actually threatening a suicide pact? That really upped the ante.'_

As the four parents talked about them in hushed whispers, Max and Liz looked at each other. Surely with those words, their parents would understand how much they meant to each other... how much they cared. Sure, they'd fouled up, and they certainly deserved some punishment, but surely after those words they'd realize that this wasn't about sex... it was about caring, trusting, loving. How could anyone be against those things? All they really needed was another chance. They'd been making their parents proud all their lives, they'd make them proud about this as well, proud about how their children handled coming of age. Lost in each other's eyes, they were certain it would all work out somehow. And both started to smile when Jeff Parker said, "OK, we now have a change of plans..."

But the smiles quickly faded as he continued... "Lizzy, we are taking you out of school and your mother will be flying with you to a boarding school tomorrow morning. You are not to contact Max, not to tell him where you are, that means no writing, no phone calls, no e-mail... nothing."

"And you son, are to get the jeep home right now. Your mother and I will be here another ten minutes or so, and then we'll be home and discuss your restrictions in detail with you at that time."

Liz clung to Max in disbelief, "No... no... Daddy... you can't. Mom... don't tell me to do this..."

"Liz, let go of Max. Right now. We are going to do this for the rest of the year. If you behave... show yourself worthy of our trust... we'll see what happens... maybe you can come back to West Roswell for the next academic year. But you two both need a cooling off period, and you are going to have it."

In the end, her parents had to almost pry Liz away from Max. As she went upstairs in tears, four sets of eyes looked at him in disapproval. He glared back. Whatever mistakes Max Evans had made, he decided,... well they hadn't been nearly as bad as the one the four parents had just made.

Five minutes later Liz was upstairs lying on her bed, the pillow already soaked with tears. She was hurt... angry... just waiting to hear one of her parents come to that door. She was going to unload on them... going to tell them that she wasn't going to stand for this... that it wasn't going to happen. But she didn't hear them come up the stairs... didn't hear them open the door. Instead she heard a tap on her window.

She looked up from the pillow.

"Max...?"


	7. Part 7

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

In defense of Diane and Philip Evans, they really didn't understand the look on their son's face as they saw him watch Liz leave to go up to her room. They had never seen him angry before. But when he turned and talked to her parents, there wasn't a doubt in the mind of anyone in the room that Max Evans was a very unhappy person.

"I can't believe the two of you," he said to the Parkers. "You have a daughter that is kind and good and pure and... and giving. I can understand you being mad at me, but the way you just crushed Liz... how could you do that?"

"Max!" Philip started, but that was as far as he got as Max next turned to his parents, the same fire in his eyes.

"I know that I owe both of you... for taking me in... for caring for me for ten years... but you barely know Liz. But you still were part of this. That's... inexcusable." He walked toward the door of the Crashdown, shaking his head.

"Max... son... come back here. This isn't over."

He stopped in mid-stride and turned his head, but hesitated only briefly. "Yes it is, Dad. Yes it is..."

As the door closed behind him, the four parents looked at one another.

"Well THAT did not go particularly well," said Nancy Parker.

"I don't think I've ever seen Max angry before, is he always that intimidating when he's upset?"

"I don't know," said Diane. "I don't think I've ever seen him mad before."

"Not EVER?" asked Jeff incredulously.

"No... never," said Philip Evans, looking at the door that Max had left through. "How about Liz... I mean... how often has she fought you like that?"

The Parkers looked back and forth at each other... "Well,... that's really the first time for her... the first time she's really ever fought us over anything."

"They can't really be that close... can they? I mean, it's only been eight weeks," said Nancy.

"I don't know about Liz, I guess I really don't know Liz that well, but... I think Max... I think she really does mean that much to him," said Diane.

"Well we had to stop it... at least slow it down for a few years, didn't we?" asked Philip.

"I don't know, dear. We justified what we did by saying they didn't have the experience to really understand the significance of what they were doing... but we just did something to them... well we've never done anything like this either. They've never given us cause... doesn't that frighten anyone besides me?"

"So you think we may have gone overboard... gone too far?" asked Nancy.

"I'm not sure what we've done. This is new territory for us, an angry son lecturing his parents. He loves us... he'll get over it eventually I suppose... but I just don't know."

"Maybe we ought to call Max back, bring Liz back down, explain to them exactly what our concerns are and ask them what they believe an appropriate punishment is and how they can provide us assurances that they are going to control their own actions enough that we'll be able to trust them together. I mean, it sounds like they've been pretty good kids for all these years,... maybe we should give them one last chance to be reasonable." said Jeff Parker.

Three sets of eyes looked at him in surprise.

"I know," he said. "I'm kind of the one who was pushing this, pushing the boarding school. This all just frightened me so much, but I haven't been able to get out of my mind what Max said just before he left,... that he could understand me being mad at him but to... 'crush Liz'..., I mean... after he said that... after I thought... well, that's what I did, really. I realized that... after he told me... but he realized it... as it happened.

I was worried about Max... worried about him hurting her. But Max was right... he wasn't the one who crushed her tonight... I was."

"We all were involved, Jeff." Said Philip. "We all thought it was the right thing to do at the time, You shouldn't blame yourself. But... maybe you're right, maybe another chance is in order. I've never seen Max so upset. As much as I am disappointed in his recent behavior... well, maybe he has a right to be disappointed in ours, too. They aren't bad kids... either one of them. Let's talk to them."

"Let me go get Liz." said Nancy. "Give Max a call and get him back here. Let's try to start this over fresh."

Philip took out his cell phone.

"I just hope that he'll come back. It worried me how he said that as he left... that this conversation was over."

"I'm sure when he calms down, Dear..." Whatever else Diane had to say was interrupted by the ringing of the cellphone next to Max's chair. She looked at her husband suddenly, the fright apparent on her face.

"It may be OK... remember, I told him we wanted his cell phone. I'll just call the house."

He dialed and the phone was answered on the third ring. "Izzy, is your brother there? Well he should be any minute. Please have him call me, call me immediately, OK? Thanks darling."

The worry was apparent at the table, but Diane tried to be positive. "I'm sure that he'll call any minute." But even this attempt to be hopeful succeeded only in sounding uncertain. Still, the three were holding it together pretty well until Nancy came back and said, "Liz is gone..."


	8. Part 8

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

"Max...?" She went to the window and opened it. "What are you doing, Max?"

"Liz,... we need to talk."

He was obviously upset... sad... resigned. She'd seen him like this once before, and she feared what was coming. It had been after the Crash Festival... when he said that they couldn't have any kind of a relationship because they were... different.

She was sure what he was going to say... that this was all his fault... that him being 'different' had provoked this problem, and maybe it had. But it was something that could have happened to any teenage couple, it wouldn't have had to have been about finding that orb. But as she looked into his big amber eyes she was certain what he was really thinking. Her parents had pretty well made it clear that he wasn't welcome,... and that was without even knowing he was... alien.

She knew for sure that he wanted to break it off... sink back into his shell, once again become only an observer in the real world, and go back to living only for the hope that some day he'd be able to return to his home world. She had feared this would happen, from the moment she had seen their disapproving looks, when they'd come through the door together.

Liz was certain of that as she climbed through the window, crossed the deck, and went down the fire escape to the jeep below. Of course, she couldn't have been more wrong...

* * *

"What do you mean, 'Liz is gone'?"

"Liz is gone, Jeff. As in empty room, open window... gone."

"Well she can't have gone far. She doesn't have the car keys," Jeff said.

"Unless she's in a black Jeep," said Diane.

That quieted the room down noticeably... but only for a few seconds.

* * *

The Jeep was parked in the parking area of the South Park Cemetery, just off SE Main Street... the in-town portion of 285 South.

"It's not your fault, Max."

"Of course it's my fault, Liz."

"Max, it's only natural that you'd want to find out about your world. I volunteered to help, you didn't force me. It just all got blown out of proportion. "

"No, Liz. I was stupid. I played the martyr, the poor little alien boy who would never fit in, for my whole life. Then you let me in... and I couldn't give up that role... wouldn't give it up. This orb... my 'home' world... it all means nothing to me Liz. YOU are my world."

"Max...?"

"I knew it when I heard them say that they were going to separate us, Liz. As quick as that, I knew I was losing the most important thing in the... in ANY world to me.

It wasn't bad enough all the years I deprived myself of what we could have had, because I never trusted... never believed you could love me. You almost had to die before I could let you in, but finally I HAD let you in... finally everything I'd dreamed about was coming true... and I pissed it away for a lousy alien football.

And right then I decided, knowing they were taking me away from you, right then I decided... my home world wasn't important... getting my parents over being mad at me wasn't important, there was only one thing that was important... it was you."

"Max, what are we going to do? I really think I would die of loneliness if I couldn't see you. How can we make them change their minds?"

"I don't know, Liz. They seemed pretty... determined. Nor do I think that us slipping out your window and driving out here is going to do much to convince them to not separate us... but I had to do it. I couldn't let you go... not without knowing. Whatever happens, however long we are apart... you are my world."

Liz knew they should go back... but this... this was really her dream.

From the moment he'd connected to her there on the floor of the Crashdown she'd known... known that he loved her. And after she'd hoped and prayed... after he had finally gotten over his fear enough to have a relationship... the alien stuff had gotten in the way.

Liz was pretty sure that Isabel and Michael's reluctant approval to their relationship was due to the flashes... the hope that they could all find a way home. And that had scared her, far more than she'd been scared by the Sheriff. She was afraid that like Moses, when she finally made it to the promised land... she'd never get to enter.

The ultimate irony would be that Liz Parker would be the instrument by which Max Evans and company could... leave Liz Parker forever...

And even now, even when she knew they should go back... throw themselves on their parents' mercy, plead for forgiveness and another chance... she couldn't bring herself to do it. Because Max had finally opened up... opened ALL the way up to her... not because he was seeking a way home, but because he was seeking her love.

She couldn't take the chance that after a lifetime of denial, when he had finally seen the light, their parents would take it all away again.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, the tears gently coming down her face... tears of sadness and tears of great joy intermingled.

Perhaps it was as simple as that. She couldn't bear to be without him right now... and he couldn't bear to be without her right now.

She had no idea whatsoever how the problem with their parents would ever be resolved, but that wasn't the priority right now. Right now they just needed to be together for awhile, and that would certainly NOT happen if they went back to the Crashdown.

"Let's drive, Max." she said. "We'll think of something... somehow. I don't know what. But right now... let's just drive."

Max didn't have a clue how to patch things up with the parents either, but it really didn't matter. He was sitting next to the person he loved, and the lady wanted to drive... so he'd drive.

The Jeep pulled back onto SE Main and continued southbound on 285.


	9. Part 9

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

"Well we've got an APB out, so everyone in the county will be looking for them," said Sheriff Valenti.

"Well can't you put up roadblocks or something?" asked Nancy Parker. "Check each car?"

The Sheriff shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry folks, but you have no idea how often this happens. I'm really cheating on standard operating procedure even doing this much, before they've been gone for 24 hours."

The Sheriff looked up at the four worried faces. '_Hell, it isn't easy raising teenagers. Kyle was a good kid, but I've caught him drinking with friends a few times. It happens and if it happened with Kyle... would I follow SOP? Probably not.'_

"Look, I'll see what I can do. They were last seen going south on SE Main. That would put them southbound on either Highway 2 or Highway 285. Both of those roads come together just north of Artesia. I have some friends in the Artesia PD. They can't do a roadblock but they can certainly stake out the road... look for a black Jeep with two teenagers. I'll do what I can."

"Thank you, Sheriff," said Jeff Parker and Philip Evans simultaneously.

An hour later the four parents were in the kitchen of the Evans house, interrogating Isabel.

"Honest, Dad. I knew they were going out last night... but I didn't have any idea they'd stay out all night. And I have no idea where they might be now."

In fact, Isabel was feeling kind of guilty about last night. She and Michael had both encouraged that... using Liz to try to find out about their home world. But they'd never anticipated... this. And it certainly wasn't the time to bring up to four parents that were already freaked that Max's sister and friend had been... well, kind of egging him on.

"I still can't believe," said Philip Evans, "that Max could do something like this... with a girl he's only really known for the last eight weeks."

Diane picked up the widening eyes and furtive look on Isabel's face.

"Isabel... what aren't you telling us?"

"Uh... nothing, Mom."

"Isabel!"

"Well Mom... it's just that... well, Max has been in love with Liz since third grade... his first day at school. And Liz... well Maria says she's had a crush on Max since seventh grade... I mean, they've been lab partners in all their science classes for the last three years. It's hardly like they are strangers..."

_'Oh shit!...'_ Thought four parents simultaneously, '_Where was THAT information this morning...'_


	10. Part 10

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

After 20 minutes going south they were halfway to Artesia. Max pulled off 285 at the Sagebrush Valley Road exit to get fuel. Liz went in for some snacks. Both of them seemed a little queasy. It was probably just nerves, but neither had eaten since dinner the night before. Maybe it would help.

Max saw the New Mexico State trooper come off the off-ramp and cross the road to park on the on-ramp. It was just a speed trap, designed to generate revenue for 'the Land of Enchantment,' as New Mexico called itself. The APB wouldn't actually go out for another 10 minutes.

But it worried Max, knowing he'd have to go past the patrol car to re-enter 285. Then he simply shook his head.

_'When you don't know where you are going to begin with, Max,'_ he told himself, '_it's no big deal to change your plans..._'

When Liz got back in the Jeep he turned it around and went west on New Mexico 13. The sign said 94 miles to Cloudcroft, New Mexico.

Twenty miles south on 285, just north of Artesia, the police car would watch all day for a black jeep with two teenagers in it. Let's hope they have a lot of doughnuts...

* * *

It's hard to talk with someone in an open top jeep doing 55 miles per hour. The engine noise is kind of loud, but the wind noise is even worse. And it's cold in February in the high desert, down to freezing in the early morning, and only reaching to the low sixties in the early afternoon.

The two sat side by side, the bucket seats and heavy jackets keeping them from any semblance of closeness, as they each became lost in their own thoughts.

'_Well Liz_,' she said to herself, '_it's an easy choice to make. You can't go back. It's not that you wanted this... at least, not this soon... but the alternative is far worse. There really just isn't any 'normal' to go back to now. You never planned on running off with Max._

_Sure, you love him, but up until this morning it seemed pretty obvious that finding his home planet was certainly a higher priority to him than you were. And while it's great that he suddenly committed to you... and committed to embracing the human side of himself... there were going to be dates and school dances and going to athletic games together, and months and even years before you were ever going to leave home._

_But you've crossed the Rubicon now, girl. Because all of those things went away, as soon as Mom and Dad said boarding school._'

Liz sighed. '_It's funny how important your parents are... even if they aren't there. Because really, everything you are isn't just you and your experiences... but it's molded by what they taught you_.'

She'd read a book on child development, and knew what that was called, 'Internalizing parental values.' And really, there wasn't much she didn't agree with them about... except Max.

'_And I think they'd even agree with me about him too, if they knew the truth... but I can't tell them... not now... probably not ever. Even when Max told me... even after he saved my life... after we connected and I saw how he felt about me... even then I freaked for awhile. So right now they already hate him... fear him... if I told them about him now... they'd really freak... call the Sheriff... or the FBI. I don't see how I ever can go back._

Liz looked out into the desert. Somehow an old song came to her, she had forgotten the name, but the refrain had always stuck in her mind...

'But it's all right now

I learned my lesson well  
You see, ya can't please everyone  
So ya got to please yourself

Lot-dah-dah (lot-dah-dah-dah)  
Lot-in-dah-dah-dah'

Except, of course, it wasn't all right. It would never be all right again with her parents. She shouldn't have had to choose between Max and her parents... Max and her whole life in Roswell with her friends and... everything she'd ever known. It wasn't fair.

But then her eyes suddenly widened. '_But that's the choice that Max had. He had to choose between his life and me... back when I was laying on the floor of the Crash... bleeding to death. And he didn't hesitate... he chose... me._'

She looked at the young man in the seat next to her and wondered, '_Can I really do any less, now? It's pretty clear that I can't please them... maybe I should just please myself... myself and Max._'


	11. Part 11

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

There was a lot of soul-searching going on over on the driver's side of the Jeep as well.

'_This is all my fault... me and my stupid have-to-find-my-alien-roots insanity. Why did I ever care about that? I LET that keep me apart... apart from my parents... apart from Liz._

_I could have been... normal. I could have asked her out to that first dance in seventh grade. It wasn't like she didn't drop enough hints back then... or in eight grade... or ninth. And gradually she just gave up. I can't blame her... I was such an idiot. And yesterday... I don't flippin' believe it._

_What Michael said..._

'Listen, Maxwell... you are a sensitive guy. And you have available to you one of the top 3 seduction lines in history... with "it's gonna help me find my home planet". And you're refusing to use it. No guy is that sensitive. Use it.'

_How incredibly stupid was that. It would have been BETTER if I HAD been trying to seduce her... at least that would have been about... Liz. What I did was just... using her... using her for something that she didn't want... didn't need... doing it because she cared about me... probably more than I cared about her._

_And why? Why should I give a rat's ass about some planet that I haven't seen for over fifty years... if I ever even saw it at all._

_It was different, maybe, back when you thought that Liz wouldn't understand... wouldn't ever accept you._

_But **you knew better**, Maxwell... and you couldn't let go of your damn obsession... your fears that the world would reject you. It didn't reject you, Maxwell. You rejected it. You rejected Liz. And yesterday, even when you knew better... even when you knew she was doing something she really didn't want to do... just to make you happy... you put that obsession above her._

_She deserves better, Maxwell. You've taken everything else she ever had away from her, just by being thoughtless._

_It stops here, Maxwell._' He told himself. _'It stops now. She's your number one priority now... now and always._

_She probably deserves better than that, Maxwell, better than you._

_But it's all you can do and... it's the least you can do..._'


	12. Part 12

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

Two hours and 45 minutes later two chilled kids pulled in to the Olive Branch Coffee Shop in Alamogordo, New Mexico. They took the back booth and ordered coffee, strong and black. It was still not quite 10AM.

Liz was visibly shivering. "I w-w-w-was d-d-doing pr-pr-pretty w-w-well there... until th-th-that 9000 foot pass."

"It was stupid of me to take you through Cloudcroft in an open jeep, Liz,... seems like I'm doing a lot of stupid things lately."

Liz was uncomfortable with Max beating himself up so much. He'd stopped four times, heating several large stones with molecular manipulation, bundling them around her feet and putting them under the blanket he'd wrapped around her... the same blanket they'd used at the radio tower.

It wasn't like either of them had really thought this through. She had heavier coats in her closet... ski gear even. They'd both been so upset they'd just walked away with the clothes on their backs. If Max hadn't stopped at the ATM... taken out the $600 that was his maximum daily limit (and most of what he had in the account in any event), they would have only had about $100 between the two of them.

And it wasn't fair that he was trying to take all the blame. Heck, it had been her parents that would be buying tickets right now to take her off to boarding school, if they hadn't left. She intended to have a heart to heart talk with him... make him understand it was her parents fault,... once her teeth stopped chattering.

Max noted the lack of response by Liz to him calling himself stupid. She obviously agreed... no surprise there, Liz was a smart girl. She was just staring at the cup of coffee... couldn't even bring herself to look at him, obviously. He wasn't surprised. The enormity of what he had done was just starting to seep in to Max's conscious mind. He had been turning over and over in his mind, over the last couple hours, Jeff Parker's speech at the Crashdown. He couldn't believe Jeff's conduct toward Liz... that was wrong... cruel. But what he had said about Max Evans... well that was spot on. He had disrespected her... first using her over the damn orb... then just sitting there and letting them do that to her. Why the hell hadn't he spoken up. He could have said that... he forced her. Or at least, wouldn't bring her back until morning... even though she'd begged him to. Sure, he might be in jail... but Liz would be home safe... and in the good graces of her parents. Hell, he couldn't even drive her across the state, without half-freezing her. She deserved better than that... better than him.

Liz had both hands clasped tightly around the cup of coffee. She was staring at it, trying to somehow leach the warmth right out of it, into her frozen fingers... up her arms... get her core temperature up, so her teeth would stop chattering. Until then she couldn't talk to Max. This needed to be a serious talk... make some plans. If she tried it now... well, it'd sound like he was talking with Woody Woodpecker...

* * *

******10AM** - Crashdown Café  


Maria walked in the front door in her uniform and saw Jessica working the front tables... Liz's table. She furrowed her brow and went directly to the schedule in back. Nope, that's how she remembered it... and it was Saturday. She walked over to Jose at the grill.

"Hey..."

"Hi Maria."

"How come Jessica's working here? Is Liz sick?"

Jesse appeared to look around to make sure no one overheard. "Apparently her and her new boyfriend spent the night together. Both her parents and his were here before I opened. Apparently there was a big fight, and they both ran off. They've already been to the Sheriff... to put in a report."

"Who ran off?"

"Liz and the boy."

"Liz ran off with Max!"

"No. She was abducted by aliens. Yes, she ran off with Max. That's what I just said."

"Omigawd!" said Maria, while realizing that Jose's sarcasm was closer to the truth than he knew. "Why would they do that?"

"Well, apparently everybody got excited... things escalated on both sides. It's easier in Mexico. You beat the crap out of the boy, march him and your daughter to the church with your shotgun... then everybody has a fiesta."

"Where are the Parkers?"

"The boss is at the Sheriff's office... again. I think he checks there every twenty minutes. Mrs. Parker is upstairs. She comes down about every twenty minutes and looks out front and out back... hoping Liz has come back."

"Has anyone heard from Liz or Max?"

"Not that I'm aware of... of course, people don't tell me nothing. Did you know they were uh... involved?"

"No. And I think Liz wouldn't have kept something like that from me."

"Well maybe that kid... maybe he forced her?" said Jose. Then he wilted immediately under the glare from Maria's eyes. "Or maybe... maybe it's all a misunderstanding. I better get my orders up."

Maria heard a noise behind her and turned to see Nancy Parker looking nervously out the back door. She walked back to see her.

"Hi Mrs. P. I heard the word from Jose about Liz. What happened?"

"It was that boy... that Max. I wish she'd never had anything to do with him."

'_Well yeah, that'd be a big help. Then she'd be... dead._' "Can you tell me what happened, Mrs. P."

"They went out last night... stayed out the whole night. When he brought her home this morning we caught them... Max's parents and us. I can't believe this is happening, Maria. God knows what he did to her last night... what he's doing to her right now."

"Mrs. Parker, Max... honest, Max would never knowingly hurt Liz. He just wouldn't do it. Whatever happened... well, I don't know... what did they tell you did happen?"

"Oh, they denied everything but... Oh God, Maria... I just want my little girl back, I don't even care what they did anymore... I just want her back."


	13. Part 13

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

**Olive Branch Coffee House, Alamogordo New Mexico**

"Max... this isn't your fault. You didn't hold a gun to my head or anything. I'm a big girl... I knew what I was doing. We just didn't know we were going to... fall asleep."

"Liz, that's just not true. That... passion. That wasn't real... it wasn't really us, Liz. It was all somehow programmed in to me... just some sort of an extra-terrestrial memory aid. I mean... I love you and I know that you love me... I saw that in the connection. But we wouldn't... I mean... neither one of us is so careless... so casual... Liz, if you hadn't heard the orb... I think... I think we both would have... done it. Without really thinking it through... without even being sure the other was ready... without even... protection. That isn't Miss always-has-a-plan and Mister think-every-issue-through-carefully. Liz, I almost let that... alien compulsion make me... just use you like you didn't even matter."

"Well you didn't, Max. And I didn't. And that's over and done with. We need to talk about now... and... us... and where we go from here."

"I'm surprised you want to go anywhere with me, Liz... after what has happened."

"We can't go back, Max. We can't get do-overs. And even running off... maybe it was stupid, but I'm not really sure I could have stood being away from you, even if was just until next school year... and it wouldn't have been... that wouldn't have been the end of it.

My parents weren't going to just send me off to a boarding school for a semester or two and say, 'OK, all done now. Have fun you two!' You know they weren't, Max, that was only going to be the start.

And even if I'd have survived a semester of not being able to see you, talk to you even, even if I had, do you think I could have come back to Roswell and minded them when they said we couldn't see each other... or date... or be together. I couldn't and neither could you.

Maybe we didn't put a lot of thought into running away together... maybe we could have done it smarter... had a plan. But maybe it wasn't such a bad idea anyway, because it never would have worked out trying to do anything else..."

"So what do we do know?"

She shook her head sadly, tears starting to roll down her cheeks. Looking at them was breaking Max's heart. He was still absolutely convinced this was all his fault.

"I don't know, Max. We need to think about it a while this time... not just react to circumstances... keep moving so they won't catch us... separate us... in time maybe we can think of something. This just isn't like any problem I've ever faced before."

He pulled her close, feeling her shaking. He wondered if the shaking was from the cold or from her fear.

"For now I guess we keep going west. But we need to go to the mall... get you some heavier clothes. See if I can find a top for the Jeep... some way to keep you warmer. It'll be dark in eight hours... it gets colder over here than even in Roswell." '_And I need to look out for you better... a lot better_,' he thought.


	14. Part 14

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

**11:30 AM Crashdown Café, Roswell NM.**

The plan was to eat lunch together in the birthday room, an enclosed area where small parties were sometimes held. It was the only area of privacy in the dining area. But nobody was really hungry. The food was there, it was lunchtime, they hadn't eaten much at breakfast, but they seemed destined to eat even less for lunch.

"What have you heard from the Sheriff's office?" asked Diane to the Parkers.

Jeff replied, "Besides, 'Get out of here. We haven't heard anything since you asked us 15 minutes ago. Go home and we'll call you!', besides that... well, nothing. They have the APB out, someone looking in Artesia, Carlsbad, even Hobbs. But nothing yet."

Diane looked at Nancy who appeared to be distracted... reading a book, tears rolling down from her eyes. "Nancy...? Are you OK?"

"No Diane... I'm worried... frightened... hurting... feeling guilty... I guess I'm a lot of things right now, but I don't think OK is one of them."

"I know, hon... it's hard... we all feel it," said Jeff.

Nancy looked up at the other three parents. "No. It's worse... worse than I thought. I really screwed up."  
"What do you mean?" asked Jeff.

"I talked to Maria... I was just upset... I was angry... said something about Max. Maria has known Liz since the second grade. She acted like... well... she was almost as upset when I said stuff about Max as Liz was. She defended him... I didn't understand... thought Liz barely knew him until two months ago. I couldn't understand why she'd take his side without even knowing what went on. I found out."

"What did you do?" asked Philip.

"Since... well since the shot was fired here... when she was so scared... when she fell and smashed the ketchup bottle... well ever since then she has been writing in what she calls her journal..."

"You read her journal?" asked Jeff.

"No... I tried, but I couldn't find it. I don't know if she took it with her or if it's at school, or where it is. But I found her old diaries and the last one... well it leaves off on the day of the shooting. Somehow that affected her... made her start out all over. Maybe it was like we talked about... that she had a brush with death and everything changed... I don't know. But I know what was in her diaries..."

"What did you find?" asked Diane, looking suddenly apprehensive.

"She was in fifth grade when she started the diary. She mentions him... maybe five times a month. Just doing grade school stuff, but... he's the only boy she mentions except for Alex. And it made sense that she mentioned Alex, I mean she, Maria, and Alex have been inseparable for years, and she mentions Alex because the three of them were always playing together but she mentions Max just because he would talk to her sometimes... nothing special really. And it stayed that way in the sixth grade, but in the seventh... they were partnered on a science project for the first time. She wrote about how much she wanted him to take her to the first school dance... the other guys she turned down because she was... just hoping. The same in the eighth and the ninth... I thought she was just shy... but it wasn't that. She would just lose hope sometimes but then Maria would tell her... tell her that Max was looking at her and she'd get her hopes up for a while. Eventually she just gave up though... dated a few other guys. She didn't really care about any of them, she wrote. Just dated them because we pushed her... because we told her she was too shy. But they were always partners in all their labs... you could tell she never really gave up hope completely. Well... finally she got him, after all those years. And maybe, if I'd really talked to her about my concerns, asked her rather than pressed her about how she felt... but no, I just told her to never grow up... never stop being my little girl... never have sex. She's wanted him for so long and I just blew it all off, acted like her love of him just wasn't important."

Diane was nodding her head. "I went into his room. Sometimes he'd get depressed, plays some terrible CD... something called 'Counting Crows,'... and he'd just lay on his bed and look at his school yearbooks. I missed him so... I went into his room... played that terrible CD, just because I missed him so much. I even got out his school yearbooks... and I didn't really understand until I set them on his desk... went to open them..."

"What?" asked Jeff.

Diane took the seventh grade yearbook and laid it on it's spine. It opened to a page. She pointed to the picture of Liz Parker. She did it again... same result.

"Seventh, Eighth, and Ninth grades. He has almost worn the books out, looking at every picture and reading what she wrote. No, the notes weren't even romantic, just hoping he'll enjoy summer vacation... hoping to see him again next year... be lab partners again. But it's pretty clear... all those years when he seemed shy... disinterested... he just couldn't bring himself to ask her."

"So my daughter has had a crush on him for at least three and a half years? Almost a quarter of her life. And we never knew. And the same for him?" asked Jeff Parker.

"No," said Philip. "It's even worse for Max. Neither he nor Isabel have any memories of anything that occurred before they were... about six or seven, we guess. Nobody is really sure. If Izzy is correct... that Max has loved her since the third grade... my God. That's over half of his life... at least... half of that part of his life he remembers."

"So after wanting one another for that long, a gun goes off. She realizes that she might have died... he realizes she might have too. All at once they realize they don't have forever, they bust through their shyness, actually have a relationship... maybe too much, too soon..." Said Jeff Parker.

"...and we tell them we are separating them," finished Diane.

"It doesn't have to be that way... we didn't know. We can change all that," said Philip.

"Sure..." said Nancy Parker. "...if we can find them... talk to them... make them believe."

"Maybe," said Phillip. "But I've never seen Max mad before... and when I told him it wasn't over and he said, 'Yes it is, Dad. Yes it is...', well that phrase just haunted my thoughts today. I'm not sure... not at all sure, he was just referring to the argument."

With that statement, what little appetite the four had suddenly disappeared altogether.


	15. Part 15

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

**12:15 Mel's Auto Wrecking, Las Cruces New Mexico**

"I tell you kid, it's a total loss. I'm just about to put it in the crusher."

Max looked at the burnt out carcass of the Jeep. "What happened to it?"

"One of those California city-boys built himself a toy... all chrome and gussied up with after-market this and after-market that. Raised it up, if you can believe that... as if a four wheel drive Jeep that's used off road didn't need a low center of gravity. Well he took it out in the desert, got high centered going up an arroyo. Damn fool didn't bother to put a skid plate under his oversize fuel tank. It cracked on a rock... gasoline splashed down on the catalytic converter... the idiot was lucky he didn't burn up with it."

"Well, the diamond plate bumpers got scorched, the chrome discolored... but the bumpers I've got are pretty banged up. If I could fix them up a little... paint them, they'd be an improvement. And even though part of the top is burned... well, what do you want for both the bumpers and the top?"

Mel looked at the two kids. The girl was bundled up in an oversize pair of quilted coveralls, but he could still see her shiver. Mel had a reputation as a crusty old bastard, but he'd been young once too. And he was somewhat of a romantic.

"Ah, Hell, son..." he drawled. "I was going to make it all into scrap metal anyway... I'll give all three to you for scrap metal prices... five bucks for the lot."

'_Well good luck you two._' he thought, as he watched them drive off. They'd gotten the top mounted securely, the bumpers were in back. He'd given them a thermos of coffee that probably cost him over five dollars. '_You seem like real nice kids._'

It was called gas pipeline road, and clearly it was functionally named. They had pulled off I-10 between Las Cruces and Deming, driven up the road into the hills until they were blocked from view. The scorched Jeep had been blue, although you could scarcely tell from the top. But with molecular manipulation the top soon looked good as new. And the black jeep quickly matched its new top.

"The bumpers aren't going to fit without a lot of work, Max, unless you can manipulate them too. Besides, the old ones really aren't all that bad."

Max just smiled as he reached out and dissolved the bolts holding the California license plates on the bumpers, heaving the bumpers out into the desert and keeping only the plates. Two minutes with a screwdriver from the tool kit and the jeep had new license plates.

"Sooner or later they were going to find a black jeep with New Mexico plates. This jeep... well, nobody ought to be looking for it. It's probably in a crusher already."

With the new top the interior had become considerably quieter, and somewhat more comfortable. As they drove along, Max put his hand to the heater and suddenly the warmth increased dramatically. In 20 minutes, Liz was warm, for the first time in almost four hours.


	16. Part 16

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

**2PM Annabelle's Internet Café, Lordsburg NM**

The soup of the day was clam chowder, and it was served with a large slice of foccacia bread. It was the first food they'd had since the coffee and pastries back in Alamogordo, and they both devoured it greedily.

They had been discussing just how to reassure their folks that they were OK. Neither Max nor Liz had really gotten to the forgive and forget stage, both were still hurt and angered by the way they had been treated, though the anger was mostly directed at how their significant other had been treated rather than their own individual treatment.

But nonetheless, they cared for their parents and whatever their differences, they wanted them to know that they were safe, if not ready to accept the judgment that their parents had levied against them. The question was how to do that without giving their position away.

Liz was surprised by how little Max knew about e-mail, although he handled a computer well enough at school. It made sense, she decided. Up until recently the only people he'd ever been close to were his parents, Isabel, and Michael. Since he had lived in the same house with his parents, with Isabel in the room next to his, it wasn't like he had to route messages over the internet. And of course Michael, well... old Hank Guerin was more likely to put a beer tap in the trailer than he was a computer. Nonetheless, it took only a little explaining to Max for him to understand.

"If you and Alex have been e-mailing since the fifth grade, why don't you know his address?"

"Because he has a weird hotmail address... Alex and a bunch of numbers and letters at hotmail dot com."

"You mean you can't remember it?"

"I put it in my address book so I wouldn't have to remember it, Max."

"It apparently worked..."

"Very funny. But it doesn't matter because Alex has a webpage for the Whits, and he's webmaster. He may only check it every day or two though, so they may not get the messages until he checks. It probably won't be until tomorrow."

"Well, if we called... well, my folks have caller ID."

"Mine too."

"So it's either this... or they are able to track us here to Lordsburg?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Sounds like we use your plan, Liz."

By 2:30 PM the blue jeep was heading northwest on the road to Safford, Arizona.


	17. Part 17

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

The plan was to take some of the secondary roads to avoid notice. They were less patrolled than the major freeways. And when you weren't sure where you were going or what you would do when you got there... well... it wasn't like you needed to be in a big hurry. By cutting north to Safford, they succeeded in avoiding the population center of Tucson, and by continuing northwest toward Globe they intended to miss Phoenix as well.

The going was slow though as a late February storm brought a dusting of snow to secondary roads not yet scraped clear from their last bout with Mother Nature. It was cold, but the repaired jeep top helped, and Max would periodically augment the defroster with a little molecular manipulation. There were some rough spots in the roads because of accumulated snow and ice, but the four-wheel drive of the jeep was more than equal to the job and they eventually pulled in to Globe, Arizona, population 7000+.

Their preparation for this journey had been... well, non-existent. They'd still been kind of stunned when they visited the mall in Alamogordo this morning, but by now they were starting to plan ahead... not in the cosmic sense, but at least in the immediate sense. They bought toothbrushes and toiletries, fresh underwear and a few basic clothes. They didn't want to go overboard. While the small town seemed nice enough, the prices for everything, gas included, were a little steep. They checked the local lodging... there wasn't much. Two bed and breakfasts were closed for the winter, and the one small motel was full. They looked at their map and saw that Payson was only eighty miles away.

They ate a hurried dinner. It was already dark, and they wanted to get to Payson before it got too late. But the going was harder than they thought, with snow flurries on the icy road slowing their progress. It was over three hours before they arrived at Payson.

Payson, Arizona, was twice the size of Globe, but still not exactly a metropolis at 14,000 souls. But by the time they got there, they were real happy to see it. They had meant to stay off primary roads but had succeeded in that all too well. Even the sturdy little jeep had been tested by the poor roads and lack of snow-clearing on that journey.

But as they saw the lights of Payson, they just wanted rest. It had been a long and angst filled day. They desperately needed a nights rest, a chance for a shower, a change of underwear, and a good night's sleep.

As Max refueled the jeep, Liz checked for a place to stay. There were only five motels in the town listed in the telephone book. She checked with the big national chain first, but they had no vacancies. The same went for the two smaller national-chain motels. The clerk at Bob's Motel, an independent, informed her there was a small winter festival going on, and they were booked up as well. But her spirits lifted when the phone at the final motel answered on the fourth ring and, over the raucous music in the background, someone informed her... "Hell yeah, we got vacancies..."

The difference between wisdom and intelligence is often just knowledge and experience. If Liz thought anything at all about the name of the last motel, she assumed it was some sort of abbreviation or contraction of the owner's names. Academically, Liz was one of the most gifted students at West Roswell High... but that was academics. Pamela Troy, who struggled to keep a 'C+' average in high school could have easily told her the last motel really wasn't what Liz had in mind. Of course, Pamela Troy had spent more than her fair share of time in places like the No-Tell Motel.

There was one forlorn little fluorescent sign and it was partly burnt out. But the part that was still working said, -Tell Motel Vacancy.

Neither Liz nor Max were really all that surprised that this had been the last motel in town to fill up, it clearly wasn't much. It looked like the buildings had once been cabins... or maybe transient worker's housing for some farm. They were clustered around three sides of a central parking lot, one cabin now used as the office. There were two or three of the others occupied, judging by the cars in front of them. Most stood vacant. Max had a hunch that the place looked a lot better with the gentle dusting of white snow than it would have normally... but it still didn't look particularly good. Perhaps it would do for the night, though. All they really wanted was rest.

They parked the jeep in front of the office, next to the rusty old pickup truck with the naked woman silhouettes on the mudflaps and the longhorn rack on the front and went in to get a room.

Liz thought the office smelled badly of stale cigarette smoke when she entered, but as they approached the desk it got even worse. The seedy looking clerk was smoking, and from the overflowing ashtray in front of him, that seemed to be his usual pastime. That and watching TV. Although they were only six or seven feet away, the lobby area was almost half of the small building, his eyes were riveted to the small screen. Her eyes followed.

The video was of two women... nothing concealing that fact. Their co-star appeared to be... a zucchini. Liz turned her eyes away from the desk, the blood rushing to her cheeks. But even not looking didn't seem to help much. It was obvious from the... dialogue... what was happening on the little screen. Turning away didn't help as much as she thought it would. She wound up looking at the DVD rental section... no doubt the clerk was just sampling the available wares.

Eventually the man had to acknowledge their presence. He didn't turn off the DVD, simply turned down the volume. Liz tried to put out of her mind the grunts and groans and obscene encouragements that passed between the two women in the film. Between the rancid smell of the ashtray and her shock and revulsion, she thought she would vomit.

Max looked at the creep behind the desk, saw and heard the video playing, and just wanted to get Liz out of there as quickly as possible. But they had to stay someplace. They'd already spent 12 hours today in the jeep, and had slept on the desert ground last night as well... although that seemed an age ago. All they needed was eight hours of being off their feet and able to lay down and rest. He hoped he could just get this done quickly and get away from this guy.

"Ah... we'd like a room," he said, wondering if they'd be asked for ID... or even a marriage certificate.

"Twenty-five bucks," the clerk said, throwing onto the counter a key with a tag reading 'cabin seven.'

Max quickly gave him a twenty and a five, surprised that even that kind of fleabag hotel could cost so little.

"Now if you want some condoms... they are extra. We have quite a selection."

Max's face reddened, his mouth starting to stammer.

"Don't tell me you don't know your size, kid?" the clerk laughed. "Well we have this sizing board in the back room... just a board with different size holes in it... you can find out. Of course, some guys like the sizing board so much they forget about their ladies. You might not want to leave that one alone too long, she looks hot."

Max grabbed the key and put his arm around Liz, hurrying her toward the door.

"You sure kid? They're only 3 bucks plus tax. And don't worry... tax is only money for the governor... not how you keep them on..." The man laughed at the closed door. This was a crappy job, but harassing the first-timers was hilarious.

Liz and Max weren't expecting much when they went to cabin seven, but even their low expectations were disappointed. When the light went on a small army of cockroaches scurried under the bed and TV stand... the only items of furniture in the room. As they stepped inside they were hit again by the aroma of stale cigarettes and what smelled like old vomit. Liz didn't think the room had been cleaned in her lifetime... the bathroom had mold growing on the cracked tiles that lined the ancient shower stall, the shower head itself was rusty. But when they saw the used hypodermic needle under the bed... and the cockroach crawling over it... it was obvious they'd had enough.

Liz didn't really want to go back in to the office with Max, but she wanted to be alone in the jeep even less. All they wanted was to get their money back and to get out...

"Damn, kid.." said the clerk. "I've heard of quickies, but that was fast. Hell, even in bull-riding, you've got to stay on for ten seconds to get a score." He cackled at his own wit.

"We aren't staying. We just want our money back."

"Well of course you aren't staying, you idiot. We rent by the hour. You got 54 minutes left if you want them... but there ain't going to be no refunds." The clerk went back to the video he was watching of the naked woman. The costar this time appeared to be a large dog.

* * *

Max pulled off on the small National Forest road northwest of town when he saw she was crying and parked the Jeep..

"Liz, I'm so sorry. I had no idea it was anything like that." Now in fairness, she'd chosen the motel. But when it comes to anger and guilt, sometimes fairness doesn't make any difference. Besides, both kids were tired and emotionally exhausted. Liz had needed a damn good cry all day. In fact she was overdue. Probably, they both were.

"I have never seen anything so... so gross. Oh Max, I'm so damn tired, I haven't had a shower in two days, a change of clothes... We've been riding in this damn Jeep for so long... my back hurts, my butt hurts... even my hair hurts. And now I'm even getting menstrual cramps that are killing me. What's going to happen to us? What are we going to do?"

He knew what she meant. What were they really going to do. How were they going to somehow reassemble their lives. He didn't have an answer for that one. So he pretended that she was talking about the immediate situation. That was a little more manageable.

"Well, we can just stay here for tonight. We can sleep in the jeep. Maybe it'll be more comfortable in the back seat. I think I can keep us warm with my powers throughout the night, it won't be very comfortable but we can find a bigger city tomorrow... get a room... take a shower... rest... buy some more clothes... maybe wash these."

Liz also knew that Max had finessed her question, that this really didn't answer it. But it was dark and she was upset, and that was probably the best they were going to do tonight. Quietly she climbed into the back of the jeep... he got in back too, and she spooned up against him for warmth, pulling the blanket over them... her tears trickling down her cheeks unseen in the darkness.


	18. Part 18

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

Max couldn't sleep. He pretended to, not wanting to upset her further. He felt her sobs, and they broke his heart... each one of them. This was his fault. She could be home now... asleep in her own bed, surrounded by people who loved her... if it only hadn't been for him... for his stupid obsession with finding his roots. The jeep was dark, but he knew where the orb was. The shovel was still in the jeep. He'd find a place tomorrow... rebury the orb. He didn't know what it might do, what powers it might have. Maybe it had been buried to begin with so people wouldn't be hurt by it. He'd bury it again somewhere... deep. He wished he'd never seen it.

He could understand why Liz's folks hated him. Those videos... a lot of them were made by girls who had run off with boys they thought loved them... but they hadn't. Their boyfriends hadn't respected them... merely used them... and then dumped them... and that's how they had wound up, doing porno films. He shuddered involuntarily. Jeff Parker had talked to him... before their first date. Talked to him about values and standards... and he'd agreed. Not just promised him, but really really agreed. Oh, he'd been in his fair share of boy's locker rooms, heard the stories. But he loved Liz, he wasn't going to exploit her... but he had. All for that damn alien orb.

It was hard to believe, after loving her since the third grade, that having her spooned up against him, finally asleep, that this moment would be one of the worst moments of Max Evans life, but it was.

For two hours he stared out into the darkness, keeping her warm, berating himself. She slept fitfully, uncomfortably. The snow had stopped, the sky had cleared. A beam from the full moon came through the window and lit her face. She looked like an angel, he thought sadly. But then, like a switch was snapped in his own mind, he looked at her and smiled. He could make this right. He would spend his entire life making this right...

He heard Liz groan in the darkness, and saw her reach down to rub her lower abdomen. Without any thought or hesitation he reached down with his hand.

* * *

She was warm enough, but the position wasn't very comfortable. Better than sitting in the seats in front, perhaps, but her legs couldn't extend. And her abdomen was cramping badly.

But worst were the dreams, that creepy clerk, and those women... barely more than girls, really, doing those things... degrading and disgusting things. Life wasn't supposed to be like that, hell sex wasn't even supposed to be like that, not that she had any experience.

But she'd always imagined it as... personal... private... just the two of you, always and forever. Something that was... sacred. You didn't make movies of something sacred.

Maybe her parents... well, maybe they weren't completely wrong. What did she know about guys. Especially guys that weren't altogether human.

Max was right when he said that really hadn't been her last night... the comment... putting herself in his arms... that had almost invited him to...

Was that all guys thought about anyway? It sure seemed like it. Couldn't any of them believe in love... and not just lust? Even Max last night... what would have been the result if she hadn't heard that orb last night. Would he have... done it? While she was controlled by whatever alien thing was affecting her judgment? Would that have really been any better than rape?

Liz was frightened and unhappy and full of doubt, and she was having menstrual cramps. She often had bad cramps, but these were as bad as she could remember having. And what she really **didn't** need right now was Max trying to cop a feel, but that was what seemed to be happening.

'_Damn him! Can't guys ever learn to keep their hands to themselves?_' she asked herself as she felt his hand slide down over her lower abdomen. But the thought was cut off as she felt the warmth... saw the soft glow that made the contractions fade. She flashed back in her mind to the first time she'd felt that hand there, that glow. Laying on her back dying in the Crashdown.

'_God Liz,_' she thought, '..._how can you be so stupid? How can you be such a self-centered bitch? You've known Max... known him since the third grade. He isn't like that, never has been. He was kind and caring, even when he didn't think he could ever be near you. Even when he was sure, sure in his soul that you'd think he was something hideous, that you could never really be a couple, even then he was your friend. He didn't ask if he could touch you there on the floor of the Crash, either... he just committed... committed his secret, committed his life... committed his destiny to you, even believing you would think he was a monster._

What in hell is wrong with you, Liz? Why can't you commit to him? He's far more human than you are... far more human than you ever were, being little Miss Perfect. Max laid it all on the line for you, offered up his life without a seconds hesitation.

You are sitting in a warm jeep with someone who cares for you. Yeah, it's been a crappy day. So what? There are millions of kids in Africa that are starving right now too, Liz. Crappy days happen...

You've had it pretty damn good all of your life...' her hand went to his, and settled over it, nestling it comfortably against her lower abdomen, just above her pubic bone. The warmth felt so good, and the cramps were gone.

"Mmmm." She whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. "If they bottled that, they'd put Midol out of business." She looked back over her shoulder at him and smiled.

"But I own the patent on Max Evans... the others are just going to have to get by with the Midol." She nestled back against his shoulder and kept his hand against her lower abdomen.

'_Quit whining Liz,_' she told herself. '_You've __**still**__ got it pretty damn good_.'

Liz closed her eyes and felt the warmth. Yeah, she needed a bath, her hair needed a shampoo, she badly needed her teeth brushed and a change of clothes. But she had Max, and for right now, having Max was enough.

Within a minute, Liz and Max were both sleeping peacefully.

* * *

**4 AM - The Evans Residence, Roswell, New Mexico**

In the master bedroom, neither of the parents were sleeping. They had just checked Isabel's room for the seventh time, just to make sure she was OK. It comforted them, somehow... at least a little bit. At least one of their children was safe. If only they could take back the things they'd said and done today, if only he were in his room too.

In the back bedroom Isabel was in her bed thinking. '_I think that was the seventh time they've checked on me. They are so worried, so upset... and I can't get to sleep any more than they can._'

The yearbook was there, dog-eared to their pictures. But the sleep wouldn't come, the dreams wouldn't come, and the dreamwalker just laid there looking at their pictures... the brother she missed so much, and the girl she'd kept from him for so long. She wished she could somehow go back in time and do things differently... she wished there could be second chances.

Across town, Jeff and Nancy were out on Liz's deck, looking out at the town... the night... the darkness.

It was funny, really, Jeff thought. It wasn't any darker than it had been yesterday morning... but it sure seemed like it. He'd been mad, then. Mad at the boy... mad at her. He'd been calling Max's parents, determined to put an end forever to her disobedience and his contempt for Liz's welfare and reputation. He'd been so sure of himself, only 24 hours ago. He wasn't sure of anything right now. And mostly, he wasn't sure where she was... or if she was safe... or if she was even alive. Right now, he'd be willing to give most anything to have these last 24 hours to do over. Of course, he'd been saying that for almost 12 hours now. It didn't help much.

Nancy looked up at the February sky. It was cold, with tiny flakes of snow being driven by small gusts of wind. She wondered if Liz were cold out there in the darkness. She hoped not, but it tormented her mind.

Liz was so slight... she always got cold so easily. Sometimes even now, even when she was almost grown up, she'd still come back and crawl into bed with her parents, just to cuddle on cold nights like this. Or at least she did until last night.

The tears started flowing down her cheeks... just the wind, she was sure... and the cold. She closed her eyes several times, blinking the tears away.

The thought came to her mind unbidden, '_Keep her warm, Max. Hug her tight and don't let her think that no one loves her. Please Max... please don't let my baby be cold... don't let her be all alone..._'


	19. Part 19

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

**7:52 AM, Small Conference Room, Chaves County Sheriff's Office, Roswell New Mexico**

"Do I need a lawyer?" asked Alex Whitman.

"You aren't in trouble, son. We just need for you to tell us where Liz and Max are."

"I can't tell you that..." He'd already explained it to them four times... and the parents before that. As soon as he'd checked the e-mail for TheWhits he'd seen it. Liz had asked that he give messages to her parents and the Evans. He figured they were private. So he hadn't even opened the attachments, just downloaded them onto a USB thumb drive and gone over to the Crashdown. He hadn't really expected the Evans to be there, sitting at the table with Liz's folks. He had barely gotten out the words, 'I have messages for you from Liz and Max,' when the four had mobbed him, insisting on knowing where they were. He'd explained it to the parents, but they didn't get it either. If Sheriff Valenti hadn't been stopping by for coffee he wasn't sure what would have happened. But now he was being interrogated by him too, and he didn't understand either.

'_Damn,_' he thought. '_Talk about shooting the messenger_.'

The only positive thing was that Isabel was there now. Although she looked awfully worried as well.

"Sheriff, I just think we are speaking a different language here. Is it possible to get one of your IT guys in on this meeting?"

"Yeah, I had kind of come to that conclusion myself, Alex."

Officer Guerro entered the conference room.

"Roberto, thanks for coming."

"No problem, Sheriff. How can I help?"

"This is Alex Whitman. He's in contact with a couple of runaway kids by e-mail, but won't give us their address."

"That doesn't seem like much of a problem, Sheriff."

"Well that's because that's NOT the problem," said Alex. "I'm NOT in contact with them, they made contact with me..."

"Well it should be an easy matter to track down their IP address, Alex... maybe even just off the header for the e-mail."

Officer Guerro started to worry when he saw Alex give him the look. The same look his wife gave him when he said something that was both obvious... and stupid.

"I told them," Alex said nodding to the parents, "I told him," nodding to the Sheriff, "and now I'm telling you, it came through an anonymous re-mailer that uses a MixMaster strategy. The IP was in Barcelona. I hacked in to it pretty easily, and found that it had come from another anonymous re-mailer in Portugal. Got that one too, but by the time I got to the one in Bolivia... the records had been erased, and it was a dead end."

Seven people were looking at Officer Guerro, who just said, "Oh shit. Let's pretend you didn't say any of that... since you weren't given your Miranda rights."

"OK," said the Sheriff. "Alex never said a word. Now what in the hell did it mean, supposing he had said it?"

"Well Sheriff, there are companies called anonymous re-mailers that handle messages, sometimes for free, sometimes for a small fee. You send your message to them, telling who you want it to go to. They don't send it on directly, but rather to an IP address that they use, usually owned by a company that does the same thing in a different country. The message may be passed between a half dozen or more different locations. The idea is to defeat attempts to track the message down. If you go back to the IP you got the message from, well they'll fight you in court, trying to preserve their secrecy. You can get a court order that they keep the records, not let them be erased in 24 hours, like they normally do. But then you have to go to court to get access. That takes weeks, months sometimes. So suppose you win? Then you get the next IP provider's address. You can take him to court too, but the records have usually already been erased. But if you are lucky... that gets you the next step along the chain... in four months or so.

What Alex has already done... well, what he just DIDN'T admit to doing because it's illegal, well, that's farther than I've ever heard of anyone getting. It sounds like Alex may have a real future with the National Security Agency," Officer Guerro said, "...if he keeps out of jail."

"Oh!" said Sheriff Valenti. "So I guess he was telling the truth, he CAN'T give us the address. I guess we all owe you an apology, Alex. I guess you can go after all."

The heads nodded around the room. Alex couldn't believe this. And they called him an absent-minded geek...

"Well," he said, holding up the thumb-drive, " Doesn't anyone even want to SEE the messages?"


	20. Part 20

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

The computer in the Sheriff's small conference room was there mainly to drive the LCD video projector for PowerPoint presentations, but a printer was hastily brought in and attached to a USB connection while Officer Guerro explained to the parents that it would take a few minutes to install a printer driver.  
Before he had quite finished saying that Alex, with a look of minor annoyance, reached past him to the mouse and dragged the icons of both files onto the third file on the thumb-drive and Officer Guerro was cut off by the printer coming immediately to life. All things considered, he took it philosophically.

The first page that emerged, Alex handed to the Parkers without looking at it, the second to the Evans.

Jeff and Nancy Parker quickly read the page, their eyes tearing immediately.

_Dear Mom and Dad,_

_I know we have our differences right now, that you are upset with my recent actions, including leaving Roswell, and I'm certainly upset with what you tried to do to separate me from Max. But we are still family, I still love you both, and that will never change even if we have conflicts. So I wanted you to know that I am OK._

_I am with Max. I realize you don't approve of that, although I pray someday that will change. We really didn't plan on doing this... perhaps it would have been better if we had, we might have done it better. I guess we are breaking new ground here, the spontaneous Miss Parker. But I'm sure now that I have had time to think that leaving was the right thing to do._

_Daddy, I love you. You were my hero throughout my childhood, taking care of Mom and me, even being like a father to Maria. I know that all these years she envied me the father I had, and can only imagine how incomplete my life would have been if you hadn't been there for me. There is in fact, very little that you and I disagree about, excepting Max. And that seems so ironic, really._

_Because you and Max... well I guess you are alike in so many ways. You are both stronger than you appear, more capable, more caring. You both hide your feelings too much, but I know how deep they are, and how pure they are, because I've been fortunate enough to have been loved by you both. So it's really so very strange that you don't get along. Perhaps some day you will. I certainly hope so._

_Mom, I love you too. I know that you are afraid for me, concerned about all the changes I'm going through, and certainly concerned about me leaving. I can't stay your little baby forever, Mom, but you'll never stop being my mom, never stop being important to me. I know you fear Max. You shouldn't. If you truly knew, if you truly understood how much he cares for me, you would know that he would never let me come to harm._

_Right now I'm not sure what is in my future. The girl with a plan doesn't quite have one developed just yet. But that future has to involve Max, or it's really no future at all._

_I realize you can't accept that. Hopefully you someday will, but right now we have to be apart. I hope the day will finally come when we can put this behind us and be a family again, but for that to happen you are going to have to accept Max and I fear you aren't ready for that yet._

_Please take good care of one another. I miss you both._

_Your loving daughter,_

_Elizabeth_

* * *

The Evans didn't do much better when they read their message:

_Dear Mom and Dad,_

_It's hard to be away from the people you love and harder still to be at odds with them. I wish it weren't this way._

_I am with Liz of course. We are safe and well and I didn't want you to worry. I'm sorry that we somehow couldn't resolve our differences some other way. I wanted you to know that I've gotten over being mad... I understand you were trying to do what you thought was best. But giving up Liz, well whether you understand it or not, giving up Liz can never be what's best for me. I wish you could understand, wish you could know what a wonderful person she is._

_Mom, I know I've always sort of disappointed you, that I never really had the closeness to you that Isabel did. For the longest time I really didn't think I was capable of that kind of closeness, but being with Liz proved that I was wrong. It's kind of bittersweet, in a way. By learning from her that I really could belong, I also learned that I could have been closer to you and Dad all of these years. I so deeply regret the fears that kept me at arms length from you, kept me from being the son you wanted me to be. You deserved so much more from me._

_Dad, it's hard for me, realizing that you don't approve of my actions. I've always respected you, valued your wisdom. I was never happier than when I thought that I made you proud of me. I realize that right now you aren't proud of me, that you don't approve of what I'm doing, that you don't approve of me being with Liz. I hope that some day you'll change your mind about us, because my love for Liz is something I can never change. It is a part of who I am._

_Please don't worry about us. We'll be OK. Somehow, being with Liz, well... I think we are much stronger together than either is apart, much like the two of you._

_Please give my love to Izzy. Tell her she doesn't have to be an Ice Princess. Tell her it's OK to be human. Better than that, it's wonderful._

_I hope and pray that someday we will be able to put this behind us and be a family again. I hope someday we are all ready for that. I can't be angry at the people I love, not ever again. Once was already too much._

_With all my love,_

_Max_


	21. Part 21

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

Jim Valenti noted the look on the faces of both sets of parents as they read the letters. Diane Evans seemed to be sobbing quietly, and all four parents seemed shaken by what they had read.

"Mr. and Mrs. Parker, Mr. and Mrs. Evans, I'd appreciate it if I could read those, or better yet get a copy of those e-mails."

Both sets of parents nodded their agreement and Alex made two clicks of the mouse and the printer spat out the two copies. Both fathers were trying to console their spouses, although they themselves had tears trickling down as the Sheriff read and reread the messages. He stood up then, and moved to a vacant corner of the room, just staring at the intersection of the walls, his eyes really not focusing on anything, as if he were lost in thought. Finally he returned to the table.

"Roberto, thanks for your help. You can leave now. Would you please tell Ms. Robertson that I'd like to see her here in about ten minutes?"

"Sure thing, Sheriff."

The deputy excused himself and left the room. Jim Valenti walked over to Isabel, who was sitting by Alex Whitman.

"Ms. Evans, I'd like you to go wait in my office. I have some things to say to your parents. Mr. Whitman, please wait in there too."

The two stood up and left through the side door, as the Sheriff turned to face the parents.

"Mr. and Mrs. Parker, do you believe that message is from your daughter, her own words... not coerced in any way?"

The Parkers looked at each other and had a short private conversation. Finally Jeff Parker said, "Yes Sheriff. We're sure that was Lizzy... sure that's how she must have felt."

"Good. Mr. and Mrs. Evans, do you believe that message is from your son, his own words... not coerced in any way?"

Both nodded. "Yeah," said Philip. "That sounds like Max alright."

"Well that's good too. I suppose the jeep... I suppose the title is in your names, since Max isn't old enough. Were you planning on having your son charged with auto theft?"

Even as Philip was shaking his head, a tearful Diane said, "Sheriff, of course not. We don't want Max to be in trouble... we just want him back."

The Sheriff sat down at the head of the table and looked at the two sets of parents, his expression stern.

"Let me tell you a little story. Last year my son was the only freshman to make the Varsity football team. He was so happy. He had all these new friends, all of them older than he was. At the end of the season they had a party, because they had won the conference championship. There was drinking at the party, and Kyle came home drunk.

Now Kyle is a good kid, but even good kids make mistakes, and that was a bad one. He had just gotten a car, an old Mustang that he had fixed up. For the next 4 months, the only time he drove that car was Friday nights, to the Roswell Hospital Emergency Room, to work as a volunteer. He saw the results of underage drinking, of drinking and driving, of drinking leading to domestic abuse.

Now I'm a realist. I'm not foolish enough to believe that I've somehow stopped all drinking on the West Roswell football team, or that I could get Kyle to turn in his friends for doing it. Three times he was late getting home from parties this year... three times because he made himself the designated driver for kids who had been drinking. Three times he took their keys away from them and drove them home himself. Three times he had some guy who might have got himself killed, get home safely... each time barfing in his pet Mustang.

I really wonder if you people realize just how good you had it. Your kids are honor students, they've never been in any trouble. Now you've told me that you think these messages are genuine, well what does that mean? There hasn't been an abduction here. Sure, they are underage. I suppose we have a curfew violation already, probably truancy if we don't get them back by Monday, but in the grand scheme of things, compared to the crimes we have to deal with here on a daily basis, this just isn't worth wasting police resources to pursue it any further."

"But Sheriff..." started four parents simultaneously, stopping when the Sheriff put his hand up like a policeman stopping traffic, as he continued, "...but even so, under one condition, I'm going to keep this case active, and you either agree to that condition or accept the fact that this department has done all it's going to do..."

"What's that, Sheriff," asked Jeff Parker.

"The deal is this, IF we can get those two back, if we can find them, there isn't going to be any boarding school talk, at least until all six of you have gone to family counseling for ten sessions. I don't expect Liz and Max to not be punished, they've certainly screwed up, but it's going to do no good to get them back if you do something that's just going to send them running again.

These are good kids, and I think more capable than any of you realize, and I think you are finding out they are pretty committed as well. Those are all good qualities, we just need to channel them into doing things a little less disruptive to everyone's lives than they have been the last few days.

So those are the terms, take them or leave them. I've got criminals to go after, and," and at that time, had they not been quite so upset, the parents might have detected a thin smile on Jim Valenti's face, "Max may be a lot of things, but I don't think he's a criminal. Liz either, for that matter."

It wasn't really like they'd been given much of a choice, but the parents all gave their word. A young lady in her mid-twenties knocked and entered.

"Ah, just who we needed," said the Sheriff. "This is Ms. Robertson. Angela, I would like you to meet Jeff and Nancy Parker, and Philip and Diane Evans. Ms. Robertson is a grad student at UNM, doing a Master's in forensic psychology to become a profiler. She's interning here for the next two months. Angela, these people have some runaway children. I'd like you to work with them... we are going to try to find those children, which may not be that easy. Then we'll have to get them back here. Then convince them to stay. That may be the hardest of all, unless we handle it properly. Now if you five will excuse me, I need to go to my office."

* * *

When they had been ushered in to his office, Isabel had tears in her eyes, but she was holding it together, until Alex spoke to her.

"Isabel, it'll be OK..."

"No it won't, Alex... and it's all my fault."

"Isabel, it was Max and Liz that made the choices."

"No Alex, it was me... me and Michael that pushed them... pushed them into experimenting that night... that's what lead to this."

"You couldn't have known this would happen, Isabel. And we'll get them back somehow, I promise we will."

She buried her head in his shoulder, the tears coming down, driven by quiet little sobs. And that's how the Sheriff found them.

* * *

He sat down at his desk, and looked at the two teenagers, the copies of the messages in his hand.

"Mr. Whitman, is there anything more you can tell me about Max and Liz... anything at all?"

He watched as both teenagers briefly stiffened, a quick glance exchanged between them before Alex replied, "N-no Sheriff, nothing at all."

"Well Alex, I'm the Sheriff of Chavez country. I suppose I ought to be concerned that nobody breaks any computer security laws in places like Barcelona, and Portugal, and Bolivia, but to tell you the truth... that's a little out of my jurisdiction but SHOULD you learn any more about the location of those two, I think I would be personally offended if you chose to not share that information with me. Do we understand one another?"

"Uh... yeah Sheriff, I'll get right on it..."

"Sheriff, what did you say to my parents?"

"I told them that we didn't have the resources to go after every runaway teenager, that we have REAL crimes to contend with."

"But Sheriff..."

"Real crimes, Ms. Evans. Like... I've still got an open case from just five months back... two men with no impulse control whatever, wrestling with a gun in a public restaurant... the gun went off, might have killed someone, Ms. Evans. That's certainly more important than a couple of teen runaways..."

Suddenly both teenagers became deadly quiet, staring at the Sheriff. He looked down at the piece of paper in his hand and smiled. He read out loud, "Tell her she doesn't have to be an Ice Princess. Tell her it's OK to be human. Better than that, it's wonderful."

He looked at the two teenagers and smiled. "That's good advice, coming from a teen runaway. You know, Ms. Evans, it isn't where we come from that makes us human, or even what we are. Sometimes it's the decisions we make. It looks like your brother has decided to embrace his own human side, and despite the trouble it has caused, it would be hard to say that embracing your human side is ever a bad idea."

"So you aren't going to be searching for my brother?"

"Actually, we are. I told your parents we'd keep the case going, conditional on all the parents and Max and Liz getting some counseling once we find them. Liz and Max have handled this real clumsily, but so has everyone else. Granted, they've made a few mistakes, but then... they're both only human, right?

You two can go now..."


	22. Part 22

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

**9:40 - The Crashdown Café, Roswell NM**

Michael saw Isabel and Alex as they approached the door of the Crashdown, and went inside with them. There wasn't much business, the breakfast rush being nearly over and the lunch rush not yet started. The three sat in the booth farthest back from the door, away from the few other customers. Maria came up to them and quickly took their orders, giving them to Jose, then crowded back into the booth next to Alex.

"Input," said Maria to Alex, "I need input."

"Well, I'm sure you heard from Jose, I got messages from Liz and Max to forward on to their parents."

"Well where are they?" asked Maria and Michael so near simultaneously it seemed like it came to him in stereo.

"There's no way of telling. It was sent through anonymous re-mailers, so we wouldn't be able to track it easily."

"Well did you read the messages? What did they say?" asked Maria.

"Not much," replied Alex. "Certainly nothing that would give away where they are. They just wanted everybody to know they were alright."

"Alright? Alright?! Being gone isn't alright, Alex. Being with your family and friends is alright. Being home where it's safe is alright. Not being on the road, with your parents royally pissed at you."

"Well they aren't hurt anyway, Maria. Is that better?" inquired Alex.

"It's all our fault," Isabel said, looking at Michael. "We put him up to that, and it all blew up. It's all our fault."

"Put him up to what?" asked Maria, alternating between glaring at Isabel and glaring at Michael.

"Well, when they were making out they were getting..." started Michael.

"Silver hickeys... I know, I helped Liz cover one up."

"Not that. They were getting... well, Liz was getting... flashes."

"Flashes?"

"Yeah. Somehow she was getting these visions about our home world."

Maria already didn't like where this was heading, starting to glare sternly, alternating it between Isabel and Michael.

"And so you did what?"

"Well, we wanted to get more information..." said Michael

"And...?" asked Maria in a demanding tone.

Isabel shook her head sadly. "So we encouraged Max to take it... farther."

"FARTHER!?"

"Well, the more passionate they got, it seemed like the more information they got," said Isabel.

"So they wound up staying out all night? Because you told Max to USE Liz, to help you find your home world? And now, now when their parents came down on them, my best friend is out there somewhere... run off... gone forever? HOW COULD YOU!"

"Relax, Maria," said Michael. "She knew what she was getting in to. She sort of... volunteered."

"Of course she volunteered. She'd do anything for Max. You both knew that. All you had to do was ask. What did you tell Max, Michael? Something like, tell her 'come on baby. Help me find my home planet'!"

The sheepish, deer-in-the-headlights look on Michael's face was all she required to start pushing on him, slapping at his hands.

He moved off the bench and backed steadily away from her, giving ground. "I don't believe you Michael, how could you do that? Who the hell do you think you are? You can't just use people, like they are expendable, like a damn Kleenex or something."

Despite his best efforts to escape, she soon had him cornered in the utility closet, slamming the door behind them and continuing to shout at him. Gradually she quieted down, apparently running out of breath, while Alex and Isabel stared at the closet with wide eyes.

"Order up," said Jose, as he rang the bell two minutes later.

When Maria didn't emerge, Alex went to the window and picked up the three meals, bringing them back to the table. Then he went to the utility closet, knocked gently, and said, "Michael, your Will Smith is ready." Hearing no sound he opened the door and stuck his head in, yanking it out immediately and returning to the table across from Isabel, an expression of complete shock on his face.

"Michael change his mind?" she asked.

"I think he's busy now."

"Think he'll mind if I have some of his fries?"

"I dunno. I think he's going to need his strength..."

Five minutes later, Isabel was almost done. Alex hadn't touched his food. Suddenly he asked, "Do Czechoslovakians have longer tongues than regular people?"

"Why do you ask, Alex?"

He didn't say anything, just stared at the closet.

Isabel looked at Alex, remembering the Sheriff's words, '_it would be hard to say that embracing your human side is ever a bad idea_.'

She smiled at him before she spoke.

"I don't know, Alex. Maybe you'll have to tell me..."


	23. Part 23

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

**12:40 - The Birthday Room, Crashdown Café, Roswell NM**

Liz and Max had been classmates for seven years, and the Parkers and Evans probably hadn't exchanged 200 words prior to Liz and Max starting to date. Even then, prior to the 5AM phone call, they probably hadn't talked with each other for a half hour in their entire lives. But misery, as they say, loves company, and for the last 32 hours all four parents had been pretty miserable, and they had been seeing an awful lot of each other.

And that might have caused friction and even animosity between the two groups, had they gotten to pointing fingers at one another, or one another's child. But they'd both made some startling discoveries, particularly concerning the apparent length and breadth of their kids friendship, and they were both feeling a little sheepish that they didn't know their own kids any better than they apparently had, considering the diaries, the yearbooks, and Isabel's rather startling revelations.

How the hell does a third grader fall in love, anyway? And besides all that, all four parents knew that the Sheriff had just gotten through sort of reaming them for what he obviously thought was going overboard on their first discipline plan... first and last, as it turned out, since the disciplinees had flown the coop.

So here they were, meeting together for Sunday lunch, and a chance to discuss things as a sort of mutual support group. Yeah, they were miserable, but at least they had company.

"Well," said Jeff. "I am at least glad that the kids communicated with us. Whatever else they have done, they at least had that much consideration."

"Yeah. It's at least good to know that they are still alive, not in an auto accident or something. But that's about all the information we got out of it... nothing about where they were or what their plans are," said Philip.

"That's not altogether fair, Philip," said his wife, remembering Max's apology to her for being distant. It had warmed his mother's heart. "There were a lot of things they said that I think we should do some thinking about."

"I don't know, Diane. I guess I just can't understand how they could do this. I guess I'm just a different generation. But I really thought that we raised Max differently. I wouldn't have believed he would ever do something like this."

"In all fairness," said Nancy, "We had been assuming that they had really only cared about each other for two months, not seven years."

"I'm not too sure we can give any credence to that third grade stuff that Isabel talked about, Nancy. I've never heard of a third grader ever falling in love... even puppy love... unless maybe with a real puppy," replied Philip.

"Well Philip," said Diane, "suppose it were only for three years...We know they cared about each other that long, because of his yearbooks and her diaries. If we'd really thought they had been going together for three years, would we have acted the way we did when they came in yesterday... knowing they cared that much?"

"Maybe not. Three years is a long time to go steady. Of course, we'd have never let them go steady."

"How would we have stopped it? Force them to date someone else. It isn't like Max hasn't had opportunities, he just wasn't interested. Until he started dating Liz, I actually was beginning to wonder if he even liked girls."

"Well, he certainly didn't leave any room for doubt in his letter how he feels about Liz," replied Phillip. "But even if maybe we should have been a little more tolerant about yesterday night... how can we excuse what they are doing now?"

"I agree," said Jeff. "Let's pretend that they just started liking each other 8 weeks ago, and they really had dated for three years. Now at that point I'd concede they would have probably moved past the googly eyes and hand-holding stage, but they are off on their own, driving across the country in that Jeep somewhere. You know what will inevitably happen, if it hasn't happened already. I have to admit, Max had me fooled. Usually when I give the talk to someone dating Liz about standards and values, I can tell it's going in one ear and out the other. But Max... Max actually had me convinced that he bought in to the same standards."

"I really thought he had, Jeff," said Philip. "I would have never believed he would do something like this. I'm really afraid you are right, teenage hormones being what they are, if they haven't engaged in premarital sex by now, it's likely only a matter of time. Those aren't the values I taught my son... I don't know where he got them... MTV, maybe."

"Yeah. Liz says Max and I are so much alike... I don't see it. I would have never, at that age or any other, had sex without being married. Those just aren't my values, never were."

"Well Jeff, let's hope that we get lucky and the Sheriff's office or someone finds them, before they get around to premarital sex," said Philip Evans.

Around the table, three heads nodded silently in agreement.


	24. Part 24

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

**11PM - Room 328, Circus-Circus Casino, On the Strip, Las Vegas, Nevada**

It had been a long and interesting day. Liz's cramps had bothered her for most of it, despite the Midol. But she was comfortable again now, laying on her left side on the bed spooned up with Max, his right hand pulsing gentle warmth into her lower abdomen.

'_Funny,_' she thought. '_This is almost like the day started. But so much has happened since then..._'

She had bought a new journal, the old one still presumably safe in its niche in her bedroom wall. She lay on her side feeling the best she had felt all day and started to write...

_It's February 25th and it has been a busy and eventful day. Max and I awoke at 6AM. I think both of us were stiff and sore, but all in all, it wasn't a bad night. We talked a lot on the trip north to Flagstaff before we stopped for breakfast. I'm the one who always liked to have a plan, but on this occasion I think Max's plan topped any that I could possibly have thought of._

We had a great breakfast in Flagstaff, but other than that it was sort of a gas and go. We took I-40 to Bullhead City before turning north, and pretty much all of the serious weather was behind us by the time we passed Kingman, AZ. We had an early lunch there, in a great Mexican restaurant along the old Route 66. Someday I hope we can go back and explore the town even further, but we wanted to get here and get this room as soon as we could, so we didn't tarry. We got in about 1PM. It's hard to believe how much has happened since then.

The room is only about $45 a night, because they make up for it from all the money people lose gambling. We checked in at 1PM. In the lobby was an arcade area for children to use while their parents are gambling. We used the photo machine prior to even getting to the room. As soon as we got here, Max left again to go to Kinko's for materials. I hit the shower as soon as he was out the door. It was heaven to be clean again. Max got back just as I was starting to dry my hair. He smiled and waved his hand and... just like that it was dry and combed out. Where has he been all my life?

We spent about thirty minutes making fake ID, several sets, in several different names. Then he made fake supporting documents as well. The newer stuff all has holograms since anyone with a color printer and Photoshop can do just about anything they want when it comes to making fake ID. And as he demonstrated, holograms aren't much of a problem if you can do molecular manipulation. The small laminator he got at Office Depot was the biggest expense, about $40.

Next we went down to the shops and went on a clothes buying spree. We each needed one good looking and upscale outfit. I was worried about that, it cost over half of the money we had left. I should have known to have confidence in Max. He's always been there when I needed him.

Next was back up to the room and dress up. He's always looked great, even in Levis and a T-shirt, but... damn... he sure cleans up well. After that, back downstairs to the casino.

Max believed that it would be risky for us to win a lot of money... they verify your ID to send a form to the IRS if you win too much at one time... check your age pretty thoroughly too. Sure, we had fake ID that said that we were twenty-one, and maybe dressed up like that we ALMOST looked the part, but it was safer to be part of the background rather than the subject of the story.

We went to the high-roller area, where the big money gets bet. The game he chose was Roulette. It's kind of a dumb game, really. Statistically, the house always wins, like in most of Las Vegas. But we had a system. In Roulette you can bet on colors. We pretended not to know each other, got to different parts of the table, and started betting. The minimum bet was $50. He'd bet on red, I'd bet on black. One would win, one would lose. Overall, we'd break even, unless zero or double zero came up. If it did... well, we both lost. Not much of a system, huh?

But every third or fourth bet, one of us would bet twice the minimum. If I bet $100 on red, he still bet $50 on black. But if the ball was about to land on a black slot, he'd give it a tiny nudge with his powers, just enough to let it land somewhere else. Sometimes it'd still land on black... it was only a fifty-fifty chance. But overall, it changed the odds from about a 94% return to about a 107% return by doing it this way. One of us lost every time one of us won, but the one winning usually had the bigger bet.

But nobody paid any attention to us, because at that table, we were betting chump-change. You wouldn't believe the fortunes that were won and lost there, probably better than $100,000 an hour. The $200 an hour we each made... wasn't even noticed.

We kept that up for 6 hours, and wound up with almost $2500, before we had to get to the County Clerk's office with our other ID, and then to our appointment. After that, it was back here. We had a room service dinner to celebrate... and... 

"Max, quit that. You are ruining my concentration."

_...sorry for the interruption and the sloppy writing. Max just tickled me. Anyway, we had a great dinner and... _

"Max! I take it you don't want me to document the day's activities?"

"Liz, you can carry the Journal stuff too far sometimes."

"Just a minute, let me finish two or three more paragraphs, Max."

'_He's been tickling my right nipple with his left index finger on and off for the last 45 minutes, taking a childish delight out of seeing it harden. He's about to find out that two can play that game, if he keeps doing it,_' Liz thought, before returning to her writing.

_No, the Elvis chapel wasn't exactly the kind of wedding I'd envisioned; it would have been nice to have Maria there for Maid of Honor and Michael rather than an ersatz Elvis for best man. And my period just starting and a small room at Circus-Circus... well, none of those were exactly how I'd envisioned a honeymoon when I was a little girl._

I told Max that we could... you know, consummate it anyway if he wanted to, but I think that he felt how uneasy I was... wanting our first time to be... really nice. I almost cried when he said, 'I can wait a few days... or a lifetime, I just want to be with you.'

So here I am, lying in bed with him, feeling him against me, knowing that this is the start of forever.

We'll probably stay here a few days, make a small nest egg at the Roulette wheel, and then move on. No, it's not really what I dreamed about when I was a little girl, but even so, it's been the best day of my entire life.

I'm Elizabeth Evans, and I'm very happy. 

"OK, Max. I'm finished. Are you sure you don't want to... I mean if you do I would..."

He didn't say anything at first, just held her close, feeling her back against his chest. Finally he kissed the back of her neck, and worked his way around to her mouth. "No, we'll just keep you warm, keep you comfortable. We have each other... and all the time in the world."

They spooned together, his right hand giving off a warm glow above her panties even after both were asleep, while his left hand cupped her breast softly. Their hearts seemed to beat as one...


	25. Part 25

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

_It's February 25th and I'm Liz Evans... I still get goosebumps thinking about that._

Why didn't anybody ever tell me about this? Mom and I had "the talk" when I was about nine. It seemed to be mostly about... plumbing. Then 5th grade Health class. More plumbing. Sixth grade Sex Ed. Plumbing... plus how to cover a banana with latex. And when we all started dating we'd talk at slumber parties about... first base... second base... how to keep him interested without letting things get too far. And even... thirty-six hours ago, when Max just reached out to help me with my cramps... I was ready to take his head off, worried that he was trying to steal a base.

Every time I've ever accidentally bumped in to a boy or one has accidentally bumped in to me since sixth grade I've been told to worry... was this a sexual advance. You seem to spend your entire teen years worrying about what the other one's doing, what the other one's thinking... is the other one trying to get you to go someplace that you're not ready to go...

Why don't they tell you about this? Last night I fell asleep with Max's hand on my breast. Today I woke up... and it was still there. I don't have to worry that he's starting out the day on second base. Today, we are on the same team.

We woke up in each others arms. Not like two days ago, when we both kind of knew we didn't really belong there. This morning I woke up in his arms... and I was home.

Max is in the shower this morning so I'm going to write a little more in my journal until it's my turn.

I was thinking about showering with him, but he discouraged me. 'Liz,' he said, 'I don't think you are going to want a shower that cold...' Poor dear. But I warned him if he kept playing with my... well, never mind. Where were we?

I knew Max was brilliant, but when he told me the plan yesterday... at first I was just too overcome by what he was asking me to do to really appreciate it. His wife... forever. Wow!

But then I could tell he was a little tentative... I finally coaxed it out of him. He was worried that maybe our chemistry wasn't compatible... that we wouldn't be able to... you know... make babies. He looked so embarrassed talking about it... he was so sweet.

I told him 10% of couples aren't fertile... like his folks. I told him we could adopt if need be, they had... and they'd gotten a couple of pretty good kids. I think he was embarrassed to bring the subject up... so I told him, in four or five years we'll study the issue of whether or not Max and Liz Evans are capable of having kids scientifically... do exhaustive experiments, if necessary. I've never seen him blush so much.

Anyway, getting back to the story, Max got on the internet yesterday morning and did some research. Marriage is a big industry in Las Vegas. Actually, they'd have given us a license with notarized approval from our folks, even at 16. But they'd have kept those permission letters. The folks are none too pleased with us right now, and leaving that kind of a paper trail would have only irritated them worse... plus made it easier to get it annulled, because they'd have evidence of forgery. By just adding two years to our ages on our own driver's licenses, we got the marriage license and got the altered licenses back. It's neat that Max is a lawyer's kid, he found the loophole real quick.

Nobody in Las Vegas wants to get sued, so they made the laws so it's never the state's fault. Thousands of people get married here, from all over the world. There isn't any waiting period and the chapels in the casino go 24 hours a day. Even the Clark County Clerk's office goes 18 hours a day... just for marriage licenses. They have to deal with driver's licenses from 50 states, passports from the whole world, military identification cards, everything. Of course they make mistakes. But it doesn't matter, under state law. If they issue a license, it's valid, as long as we aren't already married. If we take it to someone authorized to perform weddings and get married, it's valid. Even if we used altered ID... like we did... I really am legally Mrs. Max Evans.

Now comes the problem. It can be annulled. It's legal until it is... but it can be annulled. But they have to catch us first. By already being legally married we create something called a "rebuttable presumption" that the marriage is valid. Oh, the folks can get it annulled... by demonstrating that we were underage when given the license, that the clerk's office somehow misread our ages, but they've got to do that in court, and the judge has to approve it. The key thing is, we have to be there. They can't do that, 'in absentia', because the presumption is that we are legally married and until the court has heard our side... it can't act. And if it can't act... we stay married.

So the trick, obviously, is going to be to avoid anyone catching us until we are legal age... about 18 months from now. Even if we can't... well, the longer the better. I really don't think... maybe I'm wrong, but I really don't think my parents would get an annulment if they caught us... say... a year from now. I really think I could look my folks in the eye and say, "I love him. I've shared his name and I've shared his bed, and you just can't make that go away. And I'll marry him again in 6 months anyway." I can't believe, even if they were real mad at us... that they'd keep us apart then. Or his folks either.

So that's how we are going to get our lives back. In 18 months I'll be 18 and Max... good Lord, who knows how old Max is, but he'll legally be 18 too by then. We can go back to Roswell, be with friends and family. Sure, maybe they'll be mad for awhile, we were both real mad at them day before yesterday too. They'll get over it. The only problem is we'll have to stay in Nevada, because if we get caught in another state... well, the laws aren't necessarily the same. We wouldn't HAVE to be heard at the annulment, if we weren't of legal age. But it's a big state, and we are both used to the desert. Whoops, the shower's off. My turn I guess, so I'll have to go.

I'm Liz Evans (sigh)  
and it's a wonderful world...


	26. Part 26

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

It was a busy day for Max and Liz Evans. They spread the business around the Las Vegas Strip. Three hours at the Stardust Casino, then two at the New Frontier, lunch at Treasure Island, then an hour's work at the Roulette wheel there.

It got more interesting after lunch, going to the Mirage. Security looked at them long and hard, really scrutinizing their IDs, and only reluctantly allowing them to enter the high-roller area. Once they got to the table... well, they could understand why. This was REALLY high rolling, with minimums of $250 a bet. They only stayed two hours, but that was enough. As they returned to their modest room at Circus-Circus they stopped at the front desk and put $8000 in the safe, holding on to another $400. Max said they'd worked hard enough for the day, it was time for a night on the town.

They'd bought some additional clothes for their one last day at the tables tomorrow. They changed quickly and took a cab to Caesar's Palace, to see the Colosseum, for a dinner show.

They ended up dancing for two hours at The Beach. Liz couldn't remember when she'd had so much fun.

"Well Liz, what did you like best?" Max asked, as he helped her out of the cab in front of Circus-Circus.

"Easy," said Liz. "Coming home... with you."


	27. Part 27

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

**11:00 PM Mountain Time (10PM Pacific Time) - The Evans Residence, Roswell, New Mexico.**

She'd tried them both. Could it be they were too far away? Or were they just not yet asleep. Sadly, she put the yearbook down and took the alarm clock from the side table, setting it for 2:00 AM. Perhaps she'd have better luck then...

* * *

**11:50 PM - Room 328 Circus-Circus Casino, On the Strip, Las Vegas, Nevada**

It had been a long day, much of it spent at the high-roller tables of the casinos. Enforcement of indoor clean air rules was spotty in any of the casinos, near high stakes roulette wheels it appeared to be non-existent. The problem, really, was her hair. Normally she wouldn't wash it at this hour, but recently it had gotten a lot easier to dry it and comb it out. So while Max was getting the laundry turned in, Liz took a shower, shampooing her hair lavishly.

It was kind of ironic, really, thought Liz. During her periods she really had never felt very... feminine, although if you thought about it, it was the very essence of being feminine. Even so, she'd never wanted one to be over quite as badly as she did this one. But the flow had slowed to where a tampon ought to be more than adequate.

When she emerged from the shower, Max noted with amusement she was wearing a pair of his boxers and his T-shirt. He chuckled briefly as he was drying her hair.

"Well I'm sorry. Had I known we were getting married when I saw you knocking on the window of my room, I'd have brought my whole trousseau."

"Actually, I sort of liked the outfit you had on last night," Max replied as he turned out the light and they got in to bed. He could see her smile, her face illuminated by the lights of the Las Vegas strip coming around the edges of the blinds of the third story window. She had that little crooked smile she always got, whenever she was about to tease him.

"Well that's easy to fix," Liz replied, pulling the T-shirt over her head and tossing it at him playfully.

The next two hours were largely consumed by kisses and caresses, both of their lips and hands ranging rather widely. He knew the question was coming, even before she asked. The response was the same... although he appeared to be weakening.

'_Poor darling_,' she thought. '_The timing was terrible... probably the night after next._'

As his hands continued to range he stopped abruptly, feeling an imperfection on her hip under the boxers.

"A band-aid? Liz, I can fix it," he said, his hand starting to glow as he approached it.

She slapped it away. "A birth control patch, actually Max. They have a small clinic at Caesar's Palace. After all, you gotta have a plan..."

Max allowed as how he had several, but they probably wouldn't happen for another 48 hours.

In the end, they wound up in the same position. As they were getting tired he again placed his hand on her lower abdomen, and the gentle glow warmed her. "Is that better?"

"Much."

"Is that the right spot?"

"A little lower would be good."

"OK?"

"Just a bit further... Mmmmmmm... just right."

"Sweet dreams..."

"Sweet dreams to you, too Max."

As Max and Liz drifted off she realized she'd never known such contentment. It had been another great day. It would have been perfect, she was sure, if it weren't for her period. But even that was getting better. She hadn't had a single cramp since noon...

* * *

**2:08 AM - Evans Residence, Roswell, New Mexico**

As Isabel suddenly sat bolt upright in her bed, her eyes went wide, the yearbook dropping unnoticed to the floor. "OH MY GOD!"


	28. Part 28

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

**5:00 AM - The Evans Residence, Roswell, New Mexico**

"Thanks for meeting me, Alex," she said as she opened the window. "I needed to talk to someone. I've just lain awake looking at the ceiling for the last three hours."

"That's OK Isabel. You can call me anytime you need to talk to someone. That's what friends are for," said Alex, somewhat distracted by the sight of her red velveteen pajamas.

"My God, Alex. You're freezing."

"Well, I parked a couple blocks away. I didn't want to wake your folks."

"Well lay down, let me put the comforter over you... at least until you stop shivering."

Five minutes later she was crying on his shoulder.

"Isabel, how do you know it was anything more than just a dream? People have erotic dreams sometimes," no doubt thinking that it was a good possibility he'd have one himself tomorrow night... likely having to do with red velveteen pajamas.

"Alex, guys have erotic dreams a lot, I know that. But Max and Liz... well they were BOTH having the same erotic dream... it was virtually identical, except of course from their own perspectives. I dreamwalked her in the past... back when she first found out. Miss Prissy never had THAT sort of dream, and my straight arrow brother never, ever did. "

"But if it was only a dream... so what?"

"But I don't think it was, Alex. I think that whatever force was unleashed when Michael and I pushed them to go... farther... to get information about our home world... I think it may have taken them over altogether."

"Couldn't this just be a coincidence? Isn't that possible?"

"I don't see how. In both dreams, Liz was wearing a pair of boxers that I gave Max as a Christmas present last year... at least she was at first..."

"Too much information, Isabel. Liz has always been like a sister to me."

"You've got that right. I'm never dreamwalking either of those two again..."

She sobbed quietly on his shoulder, and finally fell into a troubled sleep. He quickly followed. 

* * *

**7:15 AM - The Evans Residence, Roswell New Mexico**

"Good-bye, dear. I'm off for the office."

"Good-bye. Maybe we'll hear something today."

"I hope so. You better wake Izzy up. She's already missed breakfast, and she'll be late to school if she doesn't get going."

"I will. I don't suppose she's been sleeping any better than the rest of us. I was just letting her sleep in a bit."

They kissed good-bye and he drove off.

Diane went back inside and went to Isabel's room. She knocked gently on the door and put her head in. "Wake up, sleepyhea..."

Three seconds later she was walking back to the kitchen, her eyes wide. '_Uh-uh, I can handle only one family crisis at a time. I DID NOT just see that...'_


	29. Part 29

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

**1000 - Bolling AFB, Washington DC**

"Xeno-technology?" he asked, barely managing to keep the derision out of his voice.

"That's correct, Colonel Randolph, Xeno-technology," replied Major General Edwards.

It was a strange situation, he thought. It was the most secure conference room in Washington DC, and there were only four of them in it. He had had taken a number of briefings in this room. But this briefing wasn't for him, he was a simple spectator.

The one taking the briefing was a brand new Colonel, a man who'd put on his eagles less than two weeks previously. And the briefers were his vice, a Lieutenant General, and the Commander of the Materiel Command, a full General like himself. Another four star General, the head of the Air Force Military Personnel Center, had already talked to the briefers, assuring them that this was going to be easy.

The Air Force Chief of Staff shook his head. You didn't get to be Chief of Staff without learning how to read people, and Colonel Steve "Slammer" Randolph wasn't buying. And he understood why.

Oh, Colonel Randolph knew what was at stake. If he didn't take his next assignment, he would need to put in retirement paperwork. And since he hadn't served two years in his present rank, he'd retire as a Lieutenant Colonel, at substantial loss of retirement pay. But that wasn't going to be enough to get him to accept the job. That's because Slammer Randolph was a fighter pilot.

The Chief of Staff was a fighter pilot too, and always would be... even though he hadn't flown one as pilot-in-command for almost four years. So he knew what was going through the mind of Colonel Randolph, because he'd felt the same way the first time he'd been given an assignment as something other than a fighter pilot. Sure, it was "for the good of the Air Force," but how many times in an officer's career did he get to hear that? Right now Slammer Randolph was thinking that the world was pretty damn unfair.

The man had certainly served the Air Force in a manner that should have earned him command of a fighter wing. He'd been an excellent and aggressive squadron commander, and the Colonel's Board had given him their highest recommendation to command a wing. So it must have been frustrating as hell, over the last two weeks, as announcements were made of the appointment of new Wing Commanders... to see all of his contemporaries be named... all the wings go to other people, some clearly less qualified than Slammer.

Most of the people, hearing his nickname, would have assumed that Slammer was a hard charging assertive guy, and he was. But the Chief of Staff knew that's not how he got the nickname. Tactical call-signs are given by your squadron mates, sometimes as a joke, sometimes because of a foul-up you made, sometimes because of something exceptional you did. Fighter pilots played a lot of games like that.

Slammer had gotten his nickname as a young Lieutenant, barely out of his training, when his unit had deployed to Desert Storm. He'd been flying the Viper, the F-16, and was the junior man in his squadron. It'd been the first night of the war, and his mission had been to drop bombs on anti-aircraft sites. He'd been paired with his squadron commander who had been hit and bailed out. He'd marked the man's position and at that point should have taken off for his base. But he hadn't because someone else had fouled up bad.

It was another fighter pilot, a brand new general who had been given his first job out of the fighter cockpit, and he'd been bitter about it too. As a mission commander for an AWACS aircraft, Airborne Warning and Control System, he should have been directing the battle from 200 miles away. But the guy was inexperienced, arrogant, and senior in rank... not good qualities to have in a war. He'd ordered the unarmed AWACS way too close to the battle and ordered the combat air patrol protecting it even closer. It had seemed to the senior officer, somewhat of a turkey shoot, and he resented watching it rather than being part of it.

Clausewitz called it 'the fog of war,' the unpredictability that goes with any large operation. The airbase wasn't supposed to have any fighters, but apparently a MiG-25 Foxbat had been placed there after the last reconnaissance satellite had passed over, and up it came... between the AWACS and its escort. Oh sure, the CAP guys turned, but they were way behind, and a Foxbat goes Mach 2.2. The AWACS had turned too, but it's top speed was Mach 0.95. No way was it getting away. It would take a miracle. But that miracle had happened.

The young Lieutenant had come off his last target and heard the distress call. He shouldn't have had the AIM-120 air-to-air missile on his aircraft at all, but he did because of a late change in the mission. So even though out of position and not really having been checked out in that mission at all, he'd dropped his external fuel tanks so he could go supersonic and lit the burner. The AIM-120, known to the fighter jocks as "the slammer", was a radar missile and the large AWACS had 20 times the radar signature of the Foxbat. Lt. Randolph had fired from extreme range, while supersonic and the Chief of Staff knew that many people wouldn't have done that. Because the smart money was that the AIM 120 would go for the big old AWACS. And while no one would have given the kid a bad time about not taking an impossible shot, they would have crucified him if the missile had hit the friendly aircraft. And that was the likeliest possibility by far.

But it hadn't. The young Lieutenant had done the only thing possible that would have given the crew of the AWACS a chance, putting his own career on the line to save those men from a foul-up he had nothing to do with. Maybe it was luck, maybe it was fate, but he got the MiG.

And that's why the Chief of Staff had wanted the newly minted Colonel for this job, because he had done the right thing... not necessarily the smart thing, if he was looking to further his career. He'd been put in for a Silver Star, and deserved it... but someone had decided junior officers could only be awarded Silver Stars posthumously, so it was a bronze star ribbon he wore on his chest today. But it was obvious to the Chief of Staff, just reading the body language, that the man was going to turn down the job.

"Do you have any other questions, Colonel Randolph?" General Edwards asked.

"No sir."

Edwards looked at the Chief of Staff. He was no dummy either. He knew the man hadn't bought it.

"Gentlemen..." said the Chief of Staff, "I'd appreciate it if you'd go have a cup of coffee. I'd like to have a word with the Colonel in private." 

Slammer Randolph looked up at the Chief of Staff. '_Here comes the hard-sell,_' he thought.

"Slammer, I'd like to have a little talk with you... not General to Colonel, but just fighter pilot to fighter pilot."

"Yes, sir."

"I know you are pissed... I was too when I got my first assignment out of the cockpit. You paid your dues, you did well, you should have had a fighter wing. I'm the one who stopped that from happening, and you deserve to know why.

We've got a problem and it's a problem that's been festering for quite awhile. But we've had some close calls recently, and we can't let it go on any longer. The President tasked the SecDef and the SecDef tasked the Joint Chiefs and they tasked me and now I'm tasking you. This is an important assignment... even though I know you don't believe that. Some of our real technological edges come out of our research laboratories... stealth... engines capable of supersonic cruise... the Airborne Laser... just to name a few. And this laboratory in particular has important work."

"Sir, I don't know anything about laboratories... or research. I'm a fighter pilot."

"I picked you because I think you use common sense... and can make good decisions. Ever work with scientists, son? A lot of time they can't do either.

They may be bright as can be, but they lack common sense... and sometimes make completely off the wall decisions. Commanding a laboratory... well, it's a lot like herding cats. But it needs to be done, and it hasn't been done well there for a long, long time.

Maybe you are familiar with the Department of Energy lab at Sandia, where they make the nukes. The problems they are having with people ignoring security regulations, losing computers full of nuclear secrets, well... they've been in all the newspapers.

The Air Force has its own problem... a worse one, out at Groom Lake. It's our biggest 'black' facility... we don't even officially admit that it exists and we have two huge problems there.

The scientists there aren't bad, most of them... but they are undisciplined, and some of them are frankly very questionable in their judgment. They've been tolerated, some for decades, because they are irreplaceable... or think they are. We've had some serious breaches of safety rules... almost killed a few people... that has to stop. But even worse are the few who, at least in my opinion, ARE bad.

The remains of that saucer got moved there in 1947, along with the bodies of the aliens that were recovered. Also the one alien who survived for a time. Do you know who was doing our space work in 1947, son?"

It had been awhile since anyone had called Slammer son, but in the military you always have only the two choices when talking to a General. On this occasion it was, "No sir."

I want you to read up on Operation Paperclip, son. We were trying to beat the Russians, that was the priority. In a just world, some of those scientists would have been tried as war criminals. As for the alien, I've got no clue if he was a threat to us or not, but what they did to him... well, most of them had gotten used to human guinea pigs back in Germany. If they could do that to those people, why would they care about an alien? Now most of those people are long gone, but many of the senior people working today... well, they trained under them. They are somewhat ruthless, bitter that the alien took his secrets with him to the grave... or at least to the tank of formaldehyde he's floating in. And they are doing stupid things... taking stupid risks, trying to make that technology work.

No, I know you can put in your retirement papers today and even if you retire as a Lieutenant Colonel, be making twice what the Air Force pays you in a couple of months, flying a passenger plane for one of the airlines, but I'll tell you what, son. Take this job, and do it well, just for this one year, and I'll get you the fighter wing of your choice. Do it well for three years, and I'll do my best to see that you make a star, and that you get an air division command in fighters. Try it for a year and want out... well, I'll see that you retire at your full rank. That's my offer. Think it over, and give me your answer tomorrow morning.

You can go, son."

"Yes sir."

He watched Slammer leave. The fighter community wasn't all that large, but it was spread around the world. He'd only crossed paths with him once before, and then only heard him over the radio. He would always remember that night, knowing he'd made a mistake, watching on the screen as the Foxbat closed on them, looking at the radar operators and controllers in the cabin of the AWACS trying to do their jobs, knowing his stupidity had killed them all. Slammer had been been Viper 23 that night, and the call had been, "Viper-23, slammer on the MiG going South at 22,000 feet... Splash one Foxbat."

He hoped Slammer would take the job. He was just what Area 51 needed. 

* * *

**12:10 - The bleachers behind West Roswell High School, Roswell, New Mexico**

The area was empty, except for the four teenagers sitting up in the stands.

"You think they were doing WHAT?"

"I think that Max and Liz might have been having sex..."

"I can't believe this. You two got her mixed up in this 'find your world crap' and she got raped?"

"I didn't say that, Maria. I said that I thought her and Max might have been sort of overcome by whatever was causing the flashes... and that they might have had sex," said Isabel.

"And how is that different from rape... or at least, date-rape... only instead of using a drug or something you use your alien hocus-pocus."

"Maria, we don't know it's anything like that. For all we know, it might have nothing to do with our powers at all... she might have just decided... well, it was time for them."

"Don't give me that crap, Michael. I have known Liz since second grade. Now me, maybe. But she has always planned for the white dress, big ceremony surrounded by friends and family... no way is she going to go off and hop in bed with a boyfriend... even Max. Not without some hocus-pocus or something going on."

"Now Maria..."

"Don't you 'Now Maria,' me, Michael. Don't you EVER 'Now Maria' me! What you and Isabel did was despicable. I don't believe you even have the nerve to show up around Alex and me, her best friends. I ought to slap you from here to next week..."

"Now Blondie..."

"Don't start with the hair, Michael. Especially not with that hair of yours. What in hell do you do to get it to look like that? Stick your tongue in a light bulb socket and turn on the switch?"

"There's nothing wrong with my hair, Blondie."

"Nothing wrong if you are going to hide antennae or something in it I guess."

"Now quit with the alien cracks already... and calm down," he said, trying to calm her down by putting his hand softly on her forearm, it did not have the desired effect. She commenced to slap and push on him, and he retreated seeking the relative safety of the announcer's booth at the top of the grandstand. She was still screaming at him as she followed him in, slamming the door to trap him inside. The sounds of fighting grew steadily louder, than subsided.

"I think we better go break them up," said Isabel.

"Uh-uh... not me." Said Alex.

"Well I'M going to, if you won't."

"I wouldn't advise it."

"I can't let her beat on Michael, and you know he won't fight back... she's a girl," said Isabel.

Alex appeared unconvinced. Finally in frustration, she went to the door, opened it and stepped inside.

Five seconds later, Isabel was sitting next to Alex on the bleachers, her eyes wide, staring off into the distance.

"I don't think I was old enough to see that," she said.

"They do appear to have a strange relationship," said Alex. "Are you like that with the guys you date?"

"Of course not. I don't even LIKE the guys I date."

"Well why do you date them then?"

"Oh, part of the cover for the secret, I guess. And because that's what you do when you re an Ice Princess. Heck, they aren't even really my type."

"What is your type?"

"Well," she replied, suddenly thinking about waking up this morning with her head on his shoulder, "a lot like you I guess. Alex... would you like to come to dinner tonight... we're having meatloaf."

"Why sure Isabel. Are you sure your parents won't mind."

"My mom suggested it, actually. She says she'd like to get to know you better."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe you made a good impression with the e-mails or something."

"Sure, I'd like that."

"Ok," she said, "It's a date. But we better get to class now." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and hurried off.

* * *

**1:05 PM - Fourth Period English Class, West Roswell High School, Roswell, New Mexico**

_'Gee, I wonder if I should have asked him before I kissed him. The school policy says that if I didn't, it's sexual harassment. I sure hope he didn't mind.'_

* * *

**1:05 PM - Fourth Period Band Class, West Roswell High School, Roswell, New Mexico**

"Taylor?"

"Here"

"Travis?"

"Present"

"Vincent?"

"Yo!"

"Whitman?" 

"Whitman...?"

"Whitman...?" 

* * *

**1:55 PM Announcer's Booth, West Roswell High Stadium.**

"I'm telling you, Michael, we've got to get to class. We've already missed fourth period."

"OK, but this fight isn't over yet."

"Alright, I'll take you on... out behind the baseball backstop... right after school."

"You're on..."

"Say Michael... what's Alex doing just sitting there, staring off into space. "

"Nothing... just rubbing his cheek."

"There's got to be more to it than that."

"Does not."

"Does too."

"Does not!"

"You're real brave saying that out here, Michael. I'll bet you don't have the nerve to say it back in the announcers booth."

"Do too..."

"Do not..."


	30. Part 30

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

**6:30 PM - The Evans Residence, Roswell, New Mexico**

"Would you care for some more meatloaf, Alex?" asked Philip Evans.

"Thank you Mr. Evans. Mrs. Evans, this is delicious... it's really the best meatloaf I've ever had."

Philip looked at his wife of many years and wondered what was going on with her, but automatically he covered for her apparent forgetting about manners and hospitality that was leading her to stare at the boy in silence. "Well we are glad you like it, Alex. I've always thought that Diane's meatloaf was excellent, as opposed to our children who seem to insist upon drowning it in Tabasco sauce..." and as quick as that he knew... THAT was the problem. Max not being at the table. It was like the four of them were there, the same as always, but not really, because Alex wasn't Max. He knew that his wife was still sobbing herself to sleep, and now it was almost like Alex being there was bringing Max's absence home to her all the more.

He looked at his daughter... she'd been blushing a lot tonight. No doubt embarrassed by the interrogation Diane had been giving her friend. This whole thing with Max and that Liz-girl had hit Diane so hard, she apparently was worried about this innocuous young man sitting at their table.

Philip had worried a lot about Isabel and her dating, more so at first then recently though. She seemed to date an endless array of the pretty people of West Roswell High, many of them obviously testosterone charged athletes who probably had their pick of girls, and it had terrified him at first that his poor defenseless daughter was dating them. But she seemed to be able to handle them, and fortunately never got the least serious with any of them. As a matter of fact, this gentle young man seemed to be about the least threatening and most... well... genuine young man Isabel had ever interacted with, excepting Michael who might as well be her brother.

"So Isabel, are you two dating?"

"Father...!" Said Isabel, blushing. "You don't date until... the guy asks you out..."

Suddenly it was Alex's turn to blush. "Well, would you like to go to the Crashdown after dinner for a Sundae?"

"Gee Alex, that'll be great."

Diane Evans eyes got wide and she shook her head in amazement.

Philip was already freaked out about Max and Liz, she couldn't add to his worries. She'd have to watch them herself... monitor it so it didn't get out of hand... like it had with Max and Liz.

'_But what's this generation coming to?_' she asked herself. '_Not dating, but, but... but just __**napping**__?_'


	31. Part 31

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

**10:30 PM - The Evans Residence, Roswell, New Mexico**

As she left Isabel's room to go off to bed, Diane was actually starting to feel much better about the whole Isabel-Alex thing. She'd been working on it for four hours.

The initial step was to follow the two to the Crashdown, just to make sure that was where they were really going.

She and Nancy Parker had become quite a bit closer during the last two days, so she went around back and knocked on the door. A talk with Nancy revealed that Alex had been a friend of Liz and Maria for almost ten years, was clearly a guy in touch with his feminine side, and had acted like nothing but a gentleman in all of his dealings with both of the girls. Nancy went so far as to say that she would trust Alex with Liz anytime... not being quite so rude as to say... as opposed to a horndog like Max.

And Diane had watched the two surreptitiously from the back. It was like watching two fumbling sixth graders, blushing when they'd inadvertently touch, and confining their activities to holding hands. Even when he dropped her off, he'd given her only a somewhat chaste kiss on the cheek, and that had caused them both to blush. All of this had finally given Diane the courage to confront her demons and actually ask her daughter... uh, how come you and Alex were napping in your room this morning.

And Isabel's explanation, that she'd had a horrible dream about Max and Liz, had called Alex to talk about it, and he'd come over as a friend, actually sounded true... and Isabel hadn't even blushed. It had ended up with a long mother-daughter talk about appearances, and that it's generally best if boys don't enter your room through the windows, and values, and the like.

And secretly, Diane had decided she kind of liked Alex, certainly in preference to the parade of plastic people that Isabel usually dated. And he'd even been gracious enough to compliment her meatloaf, which she knew wasn't all that great. Heck, sometimes even Philip doused it with Tabasco sauce.

And all of this brought a ray of hope to Diane. Perhaps, just as she'd misjudged her daughter, she had also misjudged Max.

Max was a little harder to read than Isabel, always had been. She'd been sure for years that Max was keeping a secret from her and actually, up until he'd started dating Liz, had about decided that the secret was that he was gay.

And while she no longer thought that, the misunderstanding about the bedroom scene between Isabel and Alex had given her a hope that what had motivated Max and Liz to run off was the threat of losing the longstanding friendship between them.

Just perhaps, thought Diane, they really weren't doing anything overtly sexual after all...

* * *

**1:30 AM - Room 328 Circus-Circus Casino, On the Strip, Las Vegas, Nevada**

Liz was a shy person, always had been. So what was she doing on a bed in Las Vegas, wearing only a small piece of jewelry, waiting for Max? That was easy. The jewelry was a ring on her left hand. He had one too. They were married, and marriage had changed everything.

_And at the beginning the Creator made them male and female, and said, For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh. So they are no longer two, but one. Therefore what God has joined together, let man not separate_

The lines from the ceremony ran through her mind. The Elvis chapel was quite a funky place, but they sure did a lot of weddings. They had been given the option of all types of wedding vows, or they could even make up their own. Max had told her to choose, and she'd chosen a traditional service, with the old words.

Traditional. Much like the ring on her finger. She looked at it, and her heart melted all over again. Las Vegas was a funny town, the pawn shops were open all night. She remembered him running in there, after leaving the county clerk's office, to buy the watch in the display case. It hadn't even worked, but it was white gold... and he'd bought it for little more than the value of the metal itself.

He'd made two rings, one for each of them, using his powers. She had suggested the symbol on the orb, honoring his origin. The orb itself was long gone... buried deeply in the forest, 15 miles from Payson, Arizona.

He'd shaken his head. '_I'm embracing my human side,_' he'd told her. The rings were a Celtic design, the Evans clan being of Gaelic origin. She looked at the interweaving strands of white gold, a smaller version of his, and smiled.

'_**One flesh...**_' she thought.

They were that... or at least would be very soon... she planned to do quite a lot of uniting with Max... likely before this very day was over. It had already been quite an interesting morning.

It was a good thing she wasn't going to school today back in Roswell. The girls kidded one another if you had any hickeys at all, and the placement of some of hers left little doubt that the passion had gotten pretty intense. There would have been some real comments in the shower room after PE class. There was also the issue of the silver iridescence as well. Perhaps Max had abandoned his alien side, but it apparently hadn't quite abandoned him. And perhaps... a week ago... that might have bothered her... she might have felt frightened by it... but not anymore. Nothing about her beloved frightened her or embarrassed her... for they were _**one flesh**_.

They'd found, in their most passionate moments, that all he had to do was touch her in the darkness and her skin where he touched would light up with the shimmering silver iridescence. And if he allowed his lips to linger too long, too tightly, it took awhile to go away. He still seemed to have an affinity for her breasts, the evidence glowed visibly in the dimly lit room. It had gotten even more passionate tonight and she found herself waiting for their final consummation with growing impatience.

She had bought a negligee in one of the shops... but it was still in the box. She would probably take it back. He'd said he liked her in the boxers just fine. It had started out like the previous night, him finally spooning against her. She'd placed his hand as before, and felt the warmth of the gentle glow against her.

He'd been such a darling, asking how bad the cramps had been that day. When she'd replied that she hadn't had a cramp for a day and a half... she just liked the feel of his hand there... well he had gotten mischievous... well, they both had. He'd pulled the boxers from her and his hands and lips had explored her... intimately. His caresses and his touch had been welcome... and always would be, because they were _**one flesh**_.

They had gone to a New Years Eve party soon after they'd started dating... there had been little party favors... you pulled a string and they made a popping sound and shot confetti into the air. Well he'd discovered her string... and compared it to those. You could even joke about things like that when you were _**one flesh**__._

She'd told him it probably would be best if he let that one be. That he'd be getting his fireworks in about twenty hours. He'd laughed and kissed her, his hand pressing against her then, the golden glow sending wave after wave of warmth deep into her... warming her... exciting her flesh... _**their flesh**_.

She'd had to retaliate, of course, reaching up into his boxers... caressing... stroking... unashamed even when the explosion came, surprising them both... but not embarrassing them. Three days ago they would have been embarrassed, especially Liz... but not now. Now she was unashamed... unashamed because they were _**one flesh**_**. **

She looked at the iridescence on the sheet next to her, and drew her fingers through it... feeling the silkiness of it. She spread it against her inner thigh, watching the iridescence fade into her skin. Before the day was done she planned for that iridescence to be inside of her.

While she was inexperienced in such things, she was pretty sure that the silvery glow wasn't exactly normal, at least not for guys from earth, and only a few days ago the scientist part of her mind might have urged caution... but there were no such warnings today.

They were of _**one flesh**__,_ and she could never again fear anything about Max.

Liz reached for the phone and dialed the front desk.

"_Hello. This is Mrs. Evans in room 328. We had asked for an 8 o'clock wake-up call. Can we please change that to a 10 o'clock wake-up?_"  
"_No problem, Mrs. Evans._"  
"_Thanks._"

She figured Max was going to need to get his rest this morning, because she planned on keeping him very busy tonight.

She got up out of bed and went to the bathroom door, hearing the shower running still. She had briefly thought of showering with him, but thought that would somehow defeat the whole purpose...

"Max. Stop being a shower-piggy. There's someone else out here than needs it JUST as badly as you do. And you better not have used up all the cold water either, mister..."

_"I am my beloved's, and his desire is upon me." Song of Solomon_


	32. Part 32

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

**3:00 PM - Highway 95, passing through Goldfield, Nevada**

Max and Liz had gotten a late start out of Las Vegas. It had been almost 11 o'clock by the time they'd gotten up, got dressed, Liz returned the negligee, and had a quick breakfast. They had done enough shopping to fill a little luggage, and that was quickly packed into the Jeep and they'd headed north to Reno. But even by the standards of kids raised in Roswell, they were passing some desolate country, and a lot of it.

The towns were few and small, but there was a lot of road. Once they had to slow for a small herd of wild horses crossing the road, and once, while stopped for gas, wild burros had come up to the Jeep, begging for handouts. But mostly it was just desert, with arid rolling sand, or level alkali flats and, rarely, larger dry lake beds. What few signs of human life there were what seemed to be old mines, that appeared long abandoned, and equally desolate appearing small farms and ranches that didn't look like they'd been inhabited in decades.

The original plan had been to drive right through to Reno, but as the sun began to disappear behind the Sierra Nevadas to the west, that looked increasingly unlikely. As he saw the sign, 'Tonopah Nevada, 14 miles' Max decided that was as good a place as any (the selection being exceedingly small in any event) to get lunch, refuel, and consider their options. Besides, Liz needed to use the facilities.

They eventually came to a sign that said 'Tonopah, Nevada, population 2721, Nye County Seat'. The town itself looked like even that number might be an exaggeration.

There were what appeared to be a number of mines, three of which seemed to show at least some small amount of current activity. There was a small convention center and a number of hotels. But all they really wanted was a clean restroom and something to eat. They pulled in to a motel restaurant right across from the convention center and went inside.

Max waited at the front of the restaurant while Liz made a quick trip to the restroom. While he waited for her he observed what seemed to be total chaos in the restaurant dining area. There was one young girl no older than Liz waiting tables. The room was packed with mostly angry would-be diners, and the young lady was obviously flustered as she was ringing up the check for some angry customers who had just eaten. Max was already thinking this might NOT be the place that they wanted to eat... they had just eaten 4 hours earlier. This almost clinched it.

But a look on the wall map showed the next town as big as Tonopah was Fallon, and that was nearly all the way to Reno. Maybe he'd have to reconsider.

When Liz came out he started to talk to her about her options, but she seemed somewhat distracted, watching the young waitress. The sympathy in her eyes was apparent, and Max pretty well knew what was coming.

Liz was feeling in a pretty good mood when she came out of the bathroom, convinced that tonight was definitely going to be the night. But it was going to be at least another 5 hours to Reno, in the dark, on a road where wild horses and burros ranged freely. It wasn't that Tonopah was actually that great of a town, but she wasn't really interested in tourism. All she really wanted was a decent room for the night, with Max in it.

There wasn't any urgent hurry to get to Reno, they were only leaving Las Vegas to try to find somewhere a little less popular, a little less likely they'd run in to someone from Roswell. And worse yet, they didn't even have a way to reserve a room in Reno. Yes, they had plenty of money, but no credit card they could use to reserve the room, at least not without tipping off the folks. Maybe Tonopah would be OK for the night.

But when she saw the chaos in the restaurant, she immediately knew what was going on and her heart went out to the young waitress.

Liz had been working as a waitress on and off since she was twelve, and it had happened to her exactly twice. The first had been a scheduling mix-up, and the other a broken down car, but on both occasions she had wound up as a waitress working at a desperately understaffed restaurant, and the scenario was universal. If you didn't have enough people to do the job in a timely fashion, people got mad. As they got mad, they got cantankerous, and as they got cantankerous they got difficult. Every angry patron that had to be dealt with took time, and those in the queue after them just got that much further behind. It was kind of a death spiral, getting further and further behind until total breakdown.

It didn't look to Liz's practiced eye that the young waitress had much experience at all, and she was trying to cope single-handedly with a crowd that would have challenged two waitresses, and she was almost in tears. Oh, the bus boy was helping a little bit, cleaning up tables and handing out menus, but he didn't appear to speak enough English to be any good with orders or food delivery.

Even realizing the problem and having sympathy for the girl, Liz might have just let it go, it was not, after all, HER problem and she had some big plans for the night that she wanted to prepare for... but as a customer made some particularly rude comments about the speed of the service, the young girl appeared to sob, and that was enough for Liz.

Max wasn't sure how well Liz's decision to help the young waitress out would be received, but knowing Liz, what happened didn't really surprise him. She grabbed an order book and went to the nearest table with menus, quickly taking the order and putting it up at the window to a cook who appeared only briefly surprised before grabbing it and getting to work. She returned again and again, gathering orders from a half dozen tables before the young waitress even noticed her. She too appeared briefly surprised, but very grateful. Gradually order seemed to be being restored.

Max wandered back to the registration desk and checked in, Mr and Mrs Mark Everett. They really didn't have anything called a bridal suite so he got the Silver Nugget room, the nicest one available. He moved the luggage up and unpacked their things, stashing the cash in the closet and using his powers to temporarily freeze the doors closed.

Looking back in the restaurant, he watched Liz move among the customers with a smile and easy grace. As he watched her his mind seemed to wander and sensing the need for an urgent cold shower if his mind continued to wander in that direction, he thought he'd leave her to her work. He spoke enough Spanish from living in New Mexico that he understood the busboy telling him that the next shift of waitresses came on at 5:30. It appeared he had an hour and a half to kill.

He decided to explore Tonopah, hoping there was enough Tonopah there to last that long.


	33. Part 33

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

It was a slow walking tour of Tonopah, Nevada, for Max in the fading minutes of daylight. The High School was tiny by West Roswell standards, probably having less than three hundred students. Many parts of the Southwest were sparsely settled, but not many had more wide open places and fewer people than the rural areas of New Mexico and Nevada. Max looked at the small area of bleachers beside the field, wondering if they played eight-man football. But even at that, there was an alternative High School, no doubt for the stray Goth or free spirit that couldn't deal with regular classes. But he noticed it did allow you to test for GEDs, and even take college extension courses from University of Nevada at Reno. Max approved of that. It gave the kids from this small town a chance academically. The land may appear a wasteland, although he'd always thought the desert had a quiet beauty of its own, but at least it wasn't a wasteland as far as education. He wandered further to the old mining museum. And there he met Frank.

Roswell had its own old desert rats, as they were called. Max really wasn't surprised that Tonopah had one as well. He looked to be somewhere between 65 and 95 years of age, any better assessment rendered impossible by his leathery skin, almost mahogany in color, reminding one of an old and well worn catcher's mitt. There was a pot of coffee on the old pot-bellied stove in the corner, and as he entered the man's eyes looked out from amongst a sea of crows feet and looked at him briefly, before motioning to the coffeepot. He pulled a flask out of his back pocket and poured a little in his own cup as Max poured his own, then offered it to him. "No thanks," Max replied. His plans for the evening did not include getting intoxicated, at least not intoxicated with alcohol.

Max knew the type well, tough old birds who had made the desert life their own, men of strong will who usually had strong opinions and frequently liked strong drink as well. He had no doubt Frank knew everyone in town, so when Max came in to the museum he just automatically started telling him what he thought a stranger ought to know.

The town, Frank said, had started as a mining town, silver mostly, and a little gold. It still had four mines, and if the price of precious metals was high enough, anywhere up to three of them might be in operation. It had been the major town in Nye County when it started, a vast expanse of land reaching almost to Death Valley on the west, but over the years most of the mines had played out and even the ones currently operating were marginal operations that would shut their gates if the price of silver declined too much.

For awhile the ranches had been somewhat prosperous, but there just wasn't much fresh water. Frank lived well outside of town, in an old house that had once been part of such a ranch getting his water from a shallow well. He said that it had so much alkali in it that most people couldn't stand it, but he'd sort of gotten used to it.

Yeah, Frank was clearly a desert rat, alright. He said he'd once been a cowboy, and the town used to prosper back when there'd been the Roundup. Max listened while Frank told the stories of the glory years, rounding up mustangs off the range. The "damnpinkohippyeasterners," that seemed to be a single word to Frank, had outlawed the roundup, since most of the horses were sold off for dog food.

"Now why the Hell would they do that?" he'd asked rhetorically, continuing on without actually giving Max a time to answer.

He said they weren't a native species, had no natural predators, other than automobiles, and would overgraze the range, building vast herds in good years, then dying off of malnutrition and disease. He said the Bureau of Land Management tried to give them away... but generally could only catch the older mustangs that no one would take. These wound up just being penned up.

Max had seen the large corrals on the drive, maybe the old coot was actually right on that one.

Frank claimed what few horses really were adopted out were adopted by BLM employees who would keep them the required year, then ship them off to France to be eaten by "themdamncheeseeatensurrendermonkeys".

Max assumed Frank had a TV in his cabin at least, getting a signal off the small UHF repeater antenna on the nearby mountain, likely had a lot in common philosophically with Homer Simpson as well.

Frank talked about WWII, when the local airport had been a military auxiliary strip and about the 1980s and early nineties when the Air Force "had them secret stealth planes over at the test range". But since then, the town had eked out a meager existence from the mines and a somewhat better existence from tourism.

Frank said some real estate speculators had sold a whole lot of desert to fools back in the 60s, down in Pahrump in south Nye county. But after thirty years they were finally starting to build, and he suspected eventually the country seat would move down there as well... closer to the bright lights of Las Vegas.

Max was surprised at how fast the 90 minutes went, talking with old Frank. But hopefully, Liz would be getting done, and he wanted to get back to her. He thanked the old man for the coffee, and the pleasant conversation, and went back into the cold dark desert, walking back toward the convention center and the warmth of Liz.


	34. Part 34

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

Betty Ann was hurrying to get back to the restaurant because she was certain of the chaos that would greet her there. Betty Ann had been around restaurants for over fifty years.

She'd lived in Tonopah all of her life. Been married twice and outlived both husbands. Her first had been her High School sweetheart. He was two years older than her. She had just been starting her junior year when he'd joined the Marines, knowing he would soon be drafted anyway. He'd come back to Tonopah on leave enroute to fight in Korea. He had two weeks before he needed to ship out from the West Coast. They'd eloped... gone to Reno and gotten married, enjoyed ten days of total bliss. He'd come back to her from Korea four months later, in a pine box. She still left flowers on his grave site, in the cemetery above the town, on the anniversary of their marriage.

She'd moved on, although it was another five years before she'd remarried. He was up there too, although they'd had a pretty good forty years together. She'd been a waitress, a restaurant owner, and now the owner of a restaurant and motel. She wished that she'd had children, but overall she couldn't complain, she'd had a pretty good life.

She could have retired, of course, sold the business. But what then? Watch daytime soap operas? Not for her. Besides, she enjoyed the people.

In a day when everyone was told the priority was the customer, and the customer was always right, Betty Ann was a bit of an anachronism. She did like customers, always had, but her employees to her were like the family that she never had, and she was worried about three of them right now.

Jenny had worked all morning, but by noon just hadn't been acting right. Betty Ann had cornered her finally, and she'd admitted that she had some cramping. Jenny and her husband had been trying to have a child for years, so she'd insisted the young woman go get checked, and it was a good thing too. Jenny was up in Reno now, hospitalized on medicine to stop the contractions. The baby really wasn't due for another eleven weeks.

Normally Lucinda would have been there, but she had a sick child, so Betty Ann had asked Rachel if she'd work on her day off. Rachel's husband was in the military, overseas for a year. Enroute to the babysitters, her small car had hit a horse that bolted across the windy canyon road. The baby had been safe in its car seat in back, but Rachel had struck her head on the side window as the car had overturned.

For the last three hours that had occupied Betty Ann, first at the hospital, making sure Rachel was alright, then on the road to Goldfield, where the infant could stay with its aunt while Rachel stayed overnight for observation.

Economically, Rachel would do fine... so would Jenny. Her employees were her family, and Betty Ann didn't short them on health or disability benefits. And it really did seem like everything would be alright with Jenny and Rachel, even Lucinda's little boy, Billy. But the one she was really worried about right now as she drove 80 mph back from Goldfield was Anna.

Anna was another Tonopah girl... only sixteen. Her mother... well, Betty Ann didn't like to say bad things about people, but she really didn't think much of Anna's mother. Anna's father had left when she was two, and it was kind of hard to blame him really. Anna's mom was a drunk, unfaithful, and at times even violent. In fact, Anna's father might well have not really been her father at all. Even so, Betty Ann thought Anna deserved better than to be abandoned by the man.

Her mother had never remarried, but the alimony had been good... good enough for a small house... and a lot of booze. Her mother had a number of boyfriends living with them over the years, the years she spent drinking and using drugs. Eventually one of the boyfriends decided while he was drunk that Anna was more attractive than her mother... Anna had run off after that, but she really had no place to go.

She'd dropped out of school, started using drugs herself then... she'd been fifteen. She had just completed treatment two weeks ago and Betty Ann had given her a job and a place to stay, trying to help her get her life back together.

And Betty Ann could only imagine the chaos that Anna had endured the last three hours, trying to cope single-handedly with a restaurant full of delegates to the convention. And while Betty Ann really had sympathy for those delegates, fifty years of waitressing gave her the experience to know just how hard they were going to be on Anna, and she was almost terrified about the psychological effect the angry mob would have on the fragile girl. As she hurried in to the restaurant, she was expecting the worst. But that wasn't what she saw.

The dining area was pretty full, but things were running surprisingly smoothly. Anna looked up from where she was refilling someone's coffee and saw Betty Ann. She had a funny smile on her face. She shrugged her shoulders and nodded her head toward a raven haired girl that was picking up orders at the window. Anna's body language was pretty easy to interpret, sort of, '_don't ask me... but I'm not complaining._'

Betty Ann sat down at the empty seat watching her. It was about 60 seconds later that the girl came to her with a menu and a glass of water. She took the glass and thanked her. "I don't think I need the menu," said Betty Ann, "I'm pretty familiar with it. It's my restaurant. Would you like to sit and talk for a minute?"


	35. Part 35

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

**1800 hours - Communications Center, Bolling Air Force Base, Washington DC**

It was a routine sort of message, and except for the security classification status of the recipient base, was really nothing special. It read:

_Classification: Top Secret, Special access program POINT ABLE  
To: Det 24  
From: USAF/CV  
Subject: Personnel assignment_

Be advised that Colonel Steve M. Randolph has been assigned as commander, Det 24, effective upon arrival, vice current commander.

For the Commander  
Richard Edwards, General, USAF

cc: 

_Dreamland/CC  
USAF Air Warfare Center/CC, Nellis AFB, NV_


	36. Part 36

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

Betty Ann had been analyzing her from the moment that Anna had pointed her out. She moved with an unhurried grace and efficiency that spoke of considerable experience doing this kind of work, despite her obvious youth... too much youth, Betty Ann thought as Liz sat down, for that wedding ring. It was obvious it was new, she still played with it nervously, and there was no indication of either a groove in her skin from long wear, or even the absence of a tan that would be expected after only a few days in the bright desert. So what was this? An underage bride who had eloped... then interrupted her honeymoon to be a good Samaritan? Whatever the case, Betty Ann figured, she owed the girl. Anna had not been ready for what she was left with, and if she had needed to handle it alone, there was little doubt she'd have been in tears. Anna had experienced enough without having to feel incompetent because circumstances had put her in over her head.

"I'm Betty Ann," she said, holding out her hand.

"UH... Beth... uh... Beth Everett" she replied, shaking the hand.

Betty Ann noted the hesitation in giving the last name. Given the new wedding ring, that went with the territory. But the hesitation with the first was a little more puzzling. But she seemed nice enough. Almost certainly no Bonnie, although she'd have to get a look at her Clyde to be completely sure. Most likely just a couple of youngsters who had eloped... maybe traveling under a false name. Oh sure, it'd been over fifty years, but she'd done that once too.

"Well Beth, I'd like to thank you for helping out Anna. She's only worked two weeks, and a couple of the other waitresses had problems. I'd have been here myself before this if I hadn't been taking one of their children to stay with her aunt. The mother had to be hospitalized."

"That's terrible. Will she be OK?"

"Yes, almost certainly. But she got a nasty bump on the noggin... she'll be in the hospital overnight... then taking it easy at home for a few days. But she'll be back before my other daytime waitress... she's hospitalized to stop her labor. Even if they let her out, she'd not going to be on her feet much for the next eleven weeks. I don't suppose you are looking for a job?"

"Actually, we were on our way to Reno and then kind of ran out of daylight. Then I saw a customer kind of chewing on... Anna, you said her name was? Well, that happened to me a couple of times too. I just couldn't not help her, although I think I confused your cook and busboy. Oh... here comes Ma-a... my husband, uh Mark."

Betty Ann watched the young man come in and walk up to the table, he was not much older than Beth. The rings were identical, and just as new.

"Mark... this is Betty Ann. She owns the restaurant."

"I'm pleased to make your acquaintance Ms..."

"Betty Ann is fine, Mark." She looked at Liz. "Beth here tells me you are just passing through. That's too bad. I could certainly use another good waitress right now."

"I uh... kind of had plans for her myself tonight," Max said, wincing as Liz's foot kicked him under the table.

Betty Ann looked at the blushing girl. She hadn't missed the quick kick, the sudden wince, and nobody would miss the blush coming in to Beth's cheeks, She fought back a laugh, knowing she'd only get the young man in further trouble.

"Well, think it over. Should you decide you might want to stay awhile, I've got jobs for both of you. We need a guy on the registration shift too, Mark. Neither job pays a lot, but the medical benefits are good and between the two together... well you could put away some money. I've got a number of old houses out by the airport, used to be military housing back in the fifties when it was still an auxiliary field for Nellis Air Force Base. With a little fixing up and a propane tank hooked up, they'd work out OK. And the price would be right. They are just sitting empty now, except for the one I let Anna use."

Max and Liz looked at each other, thinking the same thing. If you are just trying to hide out, a rural area was often your best bet. And it didn't get much more rural than Tonopah, Nevada.

"I'll tell you what," said Liz. "Plan on me working the day shift tomorrow with Anna. Mark and I will talk it over tonight... and have an answer by morning."

"That seems more than fair, Beth. And if you decide against it, I'll have a paycheck for you for those hours, plus the hours you've worked today. And since I see the night shift getting here, just relax. Better yet, order whatever you want on that menu... both of you. It's on the house."

'_Besides,_' she thought. '_From the look of your young man there, you are going to need your strength to last until morning..._'


	37. Part 37

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

The dinner they chose was fajitas for two, and it was excellent. Betty Ann had served it to them herself.  
They appeared to like intense flavors in Tonopah. The good news, as far as Liz was concerned, was that the salsa was on the side, her first taste of it had threatened to blister her lips... and she had plans for those lips, in the immediate future. The good news for Max was... besides the anticipation... that was the best salsa he'd ever tasted, and he slathered it on his tortillas as he constructed his fajitas from the large black skillet that sizzled before them.

The flan appeared to have about a million calories per teaspoonful, and they savored it, eating it slowly with small spoons, Liz shaking her head in amused amazement as Max would add leftover salsa from the dinner to his. '_Maybe we really aren't the same species after all_,' she thought in amusement. At least, it was amusing at first. But as she contemplated that more... she felt a vague disquiet.

She had reassured him... reassured him that it would make no difference to her... even if their chemistries weren't compatible... but that wasn't entirely true. She really did want it all. And all included to carry Max's children... not now, certainly... they were already in over their head or nearly so... but someday.

Max and Isabel and Michael seemed so... human, except for their powers... clearly a big exception, and their love of sweet and spicy. It really didn't seem reasonable to her as a biologist for evolution to work that way. It really seemed like, they were at least part human, and for that part to work with their alien part... well the chemistry just could not be all that different. So... how had that worked on the planet they were from... how had they evolved their powers?

Liz knew that her energy came from mitochondria and that these mitochondria had originally evolved separately probably as some kind of bacteria and that they had their own DNA.

Was there something different about the mitochondria in Max? It must be. And what did that say about any children they might have? In humans, the mitochondria come from the mother. They are in the egg already when it is fertilized and usually, there is no mitochondria from the father. So if their cells were alike, maybe they could have children... maybe whatever was different about him was ONLY in those mitochondria, and they could have children, children with no powers. Oh, sometimes SOME of the fathers mitochondrial DNA would get in to the egg... from the tail of the sperm... from the little organelles that made the tail move so the sperm could swim... but usually not very much... only one percent or so. So maybe it would work... maybe they could have it all.

Liz remembered the nights since their marriage. Max had been so patient, so sweet. She probably ought to have wedding night anxiety... but she didn't. The girl who'd always had a plan for everything had run off almost on a whim... and been married at sixteen because she loved him, certainly, but the love would have lasted... they could have waited. It was really, she decided, because the other options were worse.

Their parents had been wrong about them... they would have waited... if they could have waited together. But not now. She couldn't go back, wouldn't go back, couldn't even imagine it.

The nights she had spent in his arms had consummated her feelings for him. The love was now much too strong to deny, much too strong to put off. Oh yes, Liz Evans was going to have sex with her husband tonight... no question about that. But it wasn't because she or he were desperate hormone-driven teenagers... it was because she knew that it was right... like nothing in her life had ever been right before.

"Max," she whispered. "It's been a long trip... all the way from Roswell. Don't you think it's time we went to bed?"


	38. Part 38

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

Chapter Warning – Non-graphic sex scene

* * *

**9:00 PM - The Silver Nugget Room, Tonopah, Nevada**

The room would have been totally dark, had it not been lit by the silvery iridescence where they touched. The kissing had started it, the silvery shimmering. And she warned him immediately...

"Max, dear... I have to work tomorrow. I can't have silver hickeys where everyone can see them."

"Well good, Liz. That wasn't where I intended to put them anyway."

"Max you are incorrigibllll..."

"Hmm?"

"Hmmm... what?"

"You started to say something...?"

"I did? I can't seem to recall... MMMMMmmmm... there."

"What?"

"I said right there... oh, I love the feel of you kissing me there..."

"Is that what you were saying a second ago...?"

"I don't... Yes, I guess so... mmmmmm..."

And it really wasn't that there was not a lot of communication going on... for there was. It was just non-verbal communication... It was twenty-minutes later that the next verbal communication ensued.

For most of Max Evans' life he had believed that he could never be accepted by her. For most of the last five months he had believed they could never really be a couple. Even for the two months they'd been dating... he'd never really believed that their being a couple would work out. Only in the last three days had he really believed that it really MIGHT happen, that his wildest dreams would really come true and they would someday actually belong to each other. But there comes a time when you can suspend disbelief no longer... even if you are as big a pessimist as Max Evans..and he was almost there. But not quite...

"Liz... are you sure... I mean, you still have a chance to back out...?"

She tried hard not to laugh.

"Sure Max... if I can back my way through this mattress. If you are doing this to tease me you are going to get some claw marks on your back..."

She felt her body part as he slowly entered her... felt him hesitate at the obstruction, afraid to be too forceful... afraid to cause her pain. She felt the thrust start slowly and lifted her pelvis to meet him, biting her lower lip in concentration, trying to control the spasms in her vagina as the tissue protested the unaccustomed stretching... feeling the warmth of him flowing into her. The flashes came into her mind then as the connection formed, and she felt what he felt and he felt what she felt as their bodies moved together as if they had minds of their own.

She didn't mean to do it... and he didn't notice when it happened... but he STILL got the claw marks on his back, even without teasing her...

Her pelvis seemed to burn with a liquid fire that raced through her body... not painful but... alive... alive as she had never been alive before. The climax came to them simultaneously and the fire became all consuming as there bodies locked together... their hearts pounding, her muscles contracting upon him as if to trap him forever inside of her...

_Liz and Max floated in the silver cloud... together. _

_In their minds they saw them floating... the other couple. They weren't really human, that was obvious... their eyes were just a little too big, the top of their skulls slightly larger than those of humans, their fingers just a little too long... and the skin was a pale silver. But in their own way... they were a handsome couple._

It was obvious that one was male and one was female... they were floating, wearing no more clothes than Liz and Max. And as they touched... it was there as well. The iridescence in her skin... wherever he touched her, was by now quite familiar. And it was obvious what they were starting to do. They made love with tenderness and beauty and the body of the male shone with the silvery iridescence. The passion was tender at first... then became heated... both beings intent on being as close as possible. The final act was unmistakable as both shuddered and the silvery iridescence faded uniformly from the two beings. As the iridescence faded, so did the racial memory... and the minds of Liz and Max drifted back to their bodies... in Tonopah, Nevada.

The iridescence was gone, but they saw each other in the dim light from around the window shade. Not that they needed eyes. They too were in about as close contact as it was possible for a man and woman to be. And they lay together, content... at least for another half hour or so... and happy.

They weren't really sure what that vision had been all about, but the sex had been... AWESOME, and this cuddling afterwards was wonderful. It would be a long and interesting night for the two of them, and they'd wonder... only as an afterthought... why they no longer saw the silvery iridescence. The correct answer, of course, was that they weren't looking in the right place...

Three hundred million iridescent sperm were fighting for entry to Liz Evans' cervix. Most wouldn't make it. Some few million would. They would charge gleefully up her uterus, seeking her fallopian tubes. Only a few hundreds of thousands would find them. And even these would know only disappointment... looking in total futility for the egg that the birth control patch had denied them.

A few tens of thousands would spill out of her fallopian tubes, into her abdomen. Within three days they would be dead, and as the lymphocytes in her body scavenged the remnants, the lysosomes would break down the DNA in the mitochondria that had energized their flagella, and in doing so they would sever from that DNA the virus that had infected the first Antarean over 50,000 years previously, the virus that being had spread to his mate... to their offspring... the virus that had infected all the mates of all of their subsequent offspring... the symbiotic virus that had given the descendants of that first being such an evolutionary advantage.

Within Liz's abdomen it was not dark. There was a soft iridescent glow that would last until her lymphocytes were done scavenging the dead sperm and the mitochondria that powered their flagella.

The lymphocytes would carry those fragments with them then as they retreated back into her lymphatic system to follow the channels to the thoracic duct where they would be dumped into her bloodstream and distributed throughout her entire body.

The viruses were hardy... they would survive. Perhaps they could even find some new mitochondria to infect. After all, there was no difference between humans and Antareans at all... except for a harmless viral infection and the power it provided to the mitochondria.

But it would take awhile. And since he couldn't reach them himself, Max Evans would just have to live with those claw marks on his back...


	39. Part 39

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

**0100 - Joe's Bar & Grill, Rachel, Nevada**

Captain Jim Hawthorne got back in the unmarked GSA leased car and headed back to Detachment 24. Yeah, he'd had a few drinks at the country western honky-tonk. But he really wasn't there for the booze, or even the food, although the t-bone had certainly been better than dining hall food. He was there mainly for the people.

The young Captain just desperately needed to get around some REAL people. Even drunk cowboys were better than the whacked-out researchers he was working with. And it wasn't that he didn't like research... hell, he had a PhD of his own in astrophysics from UC Berkeley, as well as a Bachelors in Aeronautical Engineering from the zoom school, that is, the Air Force Academy. And maybe the reason he was so damn frustrated was because he was a zoomie... although he didn't think so. He'd probably been the least military cadet there.

He'd completed his four years at the academy and, because his vision kept him from being a pilot, had elected to go out as a support officer while the Air Force Institute of Technology at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base had processed his application for graduate study. And it was hardly like Berzerkeley, as the locals called it, was a very military place either.

But Det. 24? Damn. It was mad scientist city, with little if any concern for the rules everyone else lived by. Not about security, not about technology, not even about human experimentation. It was a disaster waiting to happen, and when it did he was afraid he's be at ground zero... or at least he had been.

It had been a routine message in the daily bulletin, and chances were no one but Jim Hawthorne had even noticed it. He'd had only one year's experience in the real Air Force, and that as squadron section commander for a fighter squadron... a big name for the guy that does the administrative stuff and handles enlisted disciplinary matters for the REAL commander.

But in that year, he'd learned how military operations were supposed to run and how a military commander was supposed to act... unlike what seemed to have been the latest of decades of commanders at Det. 24 who had been totally intimidated by the senior scientists on the base, the senior civil service STS ranks who were the equivalent of general officers in their civil service rank. He'd watched the current commander be ignored, contradicted, demeaned, and defied by them... and like his many predecessors, he'd let them get away with it.

But the message had given him new hope... and a little trepidation, because he'd served that year as a Second Lieutenant under Slammer Randolph, and he was pretty sure that when the Slammer took command, there were going to be some monumental changes.

Jim knew it was going to happen, and suspected it wouldn't take long.

Sure, the super-scientists were going to do their best to passive-aggress the man, demean his lack of a graduate degree, and otherwise neutralize him so they could continue to do... well pretty much anything they wanted to, on the taxpayers dime. But Jim was pretty sure they'd never met anyone like the Slammer, and had no idea what they were going up against.

As he drove slowly down the dirt road toward Groom Lake, he smiled and chucked softly to himself. Those STS-2s and 3s had no idea what was about to hit them, despite their lofty degrees. He just hoped he wasn't in the frag pattern when the Slammer went off on them.

He'd be there in seven hours.


	40. Part 40

I own neither the story nor the characters of Roswell.

* * *

**0700 - McCarran International Airport, Las Vegas, Nevada**

The private terminal at McCarran international airport had a number of the white 737 aircraft with the red stripe, and where they went was about as secret as the fact that the local strippers had navels. Colonel Steve "Slammer" Randolph had handed off his bags, passed through security and boarded the plane without fanfare. He had expected none. Everyone dressed in civilian clothes for the trip to the detachment, and from what the Vice had briefed him, they were pretty casual about that at the detachment too, one of the first things he planned to change.

The terminal and all the aircraft had impressed him... but not favorably. The prime civilian contractor for the site... and really, the ONLY contractor, since he'd checked and found that the subcontractors were wholly owned subsidiaries of the prime, charged an incredible amount for their services... more than enough to fund ten fighter wings. And a lot of it seemed redundant, basically the prime contractor charging not just for their own work, but to oversee the subs... who were really their own subsidiaries who they ought to be overseeing anyway. And that was just the start of the problem. Since everything was a cost-plus contract, that was a disincentive for economy... the more the cost, the more the profit. And what really irked Slammer, was that he was just a simple fighter pilot... not a finance officer. If he could see it, why couldn't they? But he already thought he'd sort of figured it out. The prime contractor hired people from the site, ex-military as well as civilian. It made sense, sort of, because they already had the security clearance, which admittedly was hard to get. But that also made it so that everyone who worked out there, everyone who should have been looking after the Air Force's interest, had an inherent conflict of interest. They knew, most of them, that they would someday go from their present jobs to working for that contractor. That being the case, nobody wanted to blow the whistle on someone they'd soon be asking for a job.

Slammer was beginning to worry about just what he'd gotten himself in to, and thinking the year couldn't pass quickly enough, when the 737 took off from McCarran and headed Northeast for the Nellis ranges and the area the fighter pilots at Nellis referred to as "the box."

* * *

**7AM - The Silver Nugget Room, Tonopah, Nevada**

It had been a long night... something that had pleased them both, but Liz's shift was due to start at 8:30.

"Max... I've got to go shower..."

"Liz, you have an hour and a half."

"But it takes me almost 45 minutes just to shampoo and dry my hair, Max."

"With my powers, I can do that for you in two minutes... that's what it takes Izzy."

"Well then Mr. Evans, it would appear that I have 43 minutes to kill... would you have any suggestions as to how I do that?"

"Let me see Mrs. Evans," Max said, as he pulled her even closer. "I'm sure we can think of something..."

At 8:29 and 59 seconds Liz hurried in to the restaurant. Betty Ann just smiled, she was already helping Anna, and had not honestly expected to see "Beth" for another thirty minutes or so. As Liz walked past her to get her order pad Betty smiled.

"Did he try the old 'This is a desert, dear. We are supposed to shower together to conserve water,' ploy on you?" she laughed. "That never works..."

As Betty Ann saw the expression on Liz's face and the sudden blushing she chuckled to herself, '_Well, ALMOST never_...'


End file.
